#ye cannae please everyone

[kelatonin]

ope, saw some comments and am less excited now lmooaoaoaoooooaoaosodkoawrjfpojtgiowt fml

you ever just like, vibrate w/excitement

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 31

Prompt: Knife

Words: 1500~

TW: Allusions to Torture (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

This is the last one folks! All good things must come to an end, I suppose. This has been really fun to do! It's been great to stretch my writing skills, I feel like I improved over the course of the month, at least I hope I did, I definitely had to do less grammar and spelling corrections as we progressed, so there's that.

I wanted to thank everyone who's left such kind comments for me, you're feedback really does mean the world to me, Thank You!

If you want me to write more please do drop me an ask, I'd love to hear from you!

And with all of that said, onto the fic

Enjoy!

A shriek echoed out from the microscopic kitchenette crammed into the back of the disused officer’s rec room that the one-four-one had co-opted, Ghost and Price launched off the sagging sofa towards the noise. They charged into the kitchenette, Ghost wielding a knife and Price his hand-gun, ready to end any threat to their Sergeants.

There was no threat, just Soap trying to hide his awkward blush in his mug of coffee while Gaz stared at him with something close to abject horror. 

“Tav, mate, what the fuck is wrong with your tongue.” Gaz demanded, willfully ignoring that he’d just screamed like an arachnophobe confronting Shelob and the fact that his superiors hadn't hesitated in running to his hypothetical rescue. 

Price huffed and reholstered his gun, Ghost putting away his knife much more slowly. “Just what exactly is going on?” He demanded with an edge to his voice that suggested he was already regretting that he’d asked, “Why are you screaming over Soap’s tongue?”

“Well, Cap,” Soap started with a lewd tilt of his eyebrows and a goading grin,

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Gaz cut over him with a biting tone, “but, I didn’t expect to be confronted by the fact that Soap is an actual fuckin’ demon on a casual Thursday afternoon, Price.”

“Garrick, we talked about this,” Price scolded,

“Yeah,” Ghost agreed, “Johnny can’t be a demon, his rosary'd burn him.”

“Wha!” Soap sputtered in sheer disbelief, “Youse thought Ah’m a demon?!”

“No one’s that lucky, Tav.” Gaz said with flat seriousness, “There’s gotta be some kinda something going on.” 

“Would a deal with a demon make you demonic?” Ghost mused in an exaggeratedly ponderous tone, casting his gaze up to the ceiling tiles so that the flabbergasted expression Soap’s face was stretching into couldn't make him laugh.

Gaz perked up, snapping and pointing at Ghost in a eureka-esque motion, “Yes! That’s totally it!” He exclaimed, practically bouncing on his toes with his triumph. 

“Riley-”

“I cannae make a deal wit’ a demon!” Soap cut over Price, slamming his mug down to free up his hands for incensed gesturing, “Mah Grannie would disown me!” 

“Then how do you explain-” Gaz flailed a hand in the direction of Soap’s mouth, lacking the words to describe just what in fuck was going on in there, “-that!”

A look of cartoonish offence slid onto Soap’s face. Ghost watched him brace his hands on his hips and draw himself up to his full height, hamming it up. Trying to make it into an easily deflected joke. Concern kicked at the back of Ghost’s sternum, if Johnny was deflecting it meant the real answer was nothing good. 

Ghost had learned early on that Johnny was one of the most open, shameless, oversharing freaks that walked this earth. He had watched Johnny laugh his way through retelling stories and anecdotes that would have sent consummate exhibitionists blushing through the floor on multiple occasions. Ghost had also been quick to cotton on to the fact that it was for the best to follow up on the topics that Johnny tried to deflect, as they were generally things that would have a therapist crying and Johnny really was better off getting them off his chest. Ghost usually let it go and tried to circle back around to those deflections when they were alone and Johnny was feeling safe, but with Gaz latched onto this like a starved dog with a butcher bone, that wasn’t an option. 

Sure, Ghost could probably distract Gaz and help Johnny wiggle out of this, but debriding old wounds is always a good team bonding experience. 

Gaz and Soap had stagnated into their usual pattern of bandying insults back and forth. Having a grand time of pretending to be sputtering in high dudgeon whenever the other would quip back with something particularly clever. Ghost cut his eyes to Price, and jerked his chin at Johnny upon catching the Captain’s eye. 

Yes, Ghost wanted Johnny to talk about it, but he didn’t want his boyfriend upset with him either. 

“Right,” Price cut in after giving Ghost a roundly rancorous look, “Soap, why is Garrick accusing you of having a demonic tongue. Without!” He hastily amended when Soap turned overblown fuck-me eyes on him, “any chirpsing if you would.”

“Aye, right. Uh-” Soap hesitated, staring down at his feet and rubbing at his nape as he tried to gather the right words to explain this, “Reckon he mean’ this.” He gave up and just stuck his tongue out. 

Soap could admit that he got a bit of a kick out of watching their uncomprehending looks warp into horrified incredulity when his tongue split down the middle. He wiggled the two sides up and down in opposite directions of each other and briefly twined them into a coil to drive the image home, then retracted it back behind the safety of his teeth with as much casual finesse as he could muster. 

There was a beat of silence, then a cavalcade of questions. Soap’s personal favourite was Ghost’s ‘how did I not notice?’ said in the tone of a man on the edge of a revelatory breakdown. A close second was Price’s muttered ‘that can’t be within regs.”, but topping the charts for sheer volume was Gaz.

“What!” He shrieked, “What the fuck! When’d you get that!?” his voice dripped with a queer mix of awe, horror, and morbid fascination. 

Soap hummed uncertainly, casting his mind back, swallowing against the phantom taste of blood creeping up his throat to pool at the back of his mouth, “Mus’ a been aroun' twenty-sixteen? Some’hing like tha’,”

“Twenty-sixteen.” Price muttered, mentally rifling through Soap’s file, there was something about that year that had the klaxons spinning up in Price’s subconscious, “Not October twenty-sixteen?” 

“Aye,” Soap nodded, keeping his eyes on the ground, “Tha’d be the one.”

“Corporal MacTavish was detained by enemy forces eighth October twenty-sixteen and was successfully recovered twelfth October twenty-sixteen. In enemy custody, Corporal MacTavish was subjected to physical maltreatment, most notably manifesting in substantial damage within the oral cavity. Injury permanent but non-disfiguring. Corporal MacTavish states that no intelligence was provided to the adversary while in custody.” Price quotes -impressively word for word- from the truncated after action report that had been the script for far too many of his nightmares, “That October twenty-sixteen?” 

“Got ‘er in one, Cap.” Soap confirms, idly grinding his tongue between his teeth, “Yanno, they did offer tae fix it. The medics.” He spoke on just to break the heavy silence that had conquered the room, “But they’d have had tae open it up again, cause it’d been cauterized, so Ah said no' tae bother.”

They'd told him that as it was a 'non-invasive procedure' only local numbing would be provided and Soap would not be letting anyone else come at his tongue with a knife unless he was unconscious, dead, or dying. 

“Tav," Gaz pressed out slowly, hesitantly, “That’s fucked, mate.”

“Aye,” Soap nodded, staring down at the kitchenette’s cheap linoleum. Blinking to force the floor back into dingy tiles when his brain tried to twist it into stained concrete. He huffed a small flat laugh, more to force the scent of iron and dank stone from his nose than anything else, “Aye, twasn’t mah idea ae fun neither.”

“Johnny,” Ghost drew his name out into a devastated whine and lunged forward to coil around Soap in a protective embrace. Heart splitting at the shakiness he could feel in Johnny’s shallow breaths as he clutched his boyfriend to his chest. 

“Ah’m alrigh’,” Johnny assured, but the tear-fighting sniff he tried to conceal in Ghost’s pecs said something different. 

“You’re alright,” Price agreed, lay a grounding hand on Soap’s shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Gaz poked at Soap’s sensitive sides to force a wet giggle out of him, “Course you’re alright, Tav. You’ve got us and if those fucks aren’t already dead I’m sure Ghost is drafting up like ten different plans for how to track ‘em down and kill ‘em slow.”

Ghost was glad that Gaz’s joking was making Johnny feel better, and gave an intrigued pensive hum into the fluff of his warhawk to play along. 

It was actually fifteen different plans. 

“Okay. Okay.” Soap barked, shaking them off once he was absolutely positive that he wasn’t about to start bawling like a bairn as soon as they let go, “Mah goddamn coffee’s gonnae be fuckin’ cold now ye muckers.” 

“Do you want me to make you a new cup, so you don't have to microwave it?” Ghost offered, love surging within him for the wide blue eyes that swung his way. 

“Would ye, mo chridhe?” Johnny begged prettily. 

Ghost hooked a thumb under his balaclava, lifting it over his mouth just long enough to press an adoring kiss unto Johnny’s lips, then turning away to make him the promised fresh cuppa, fluidly stealing his mug to dump and refill it.

Both men were content to ignore the way Gaz faked a retch over their sappy mush, as he practically stepped on Price’s heels following after the Captain on his tactical retreat back to the sofa.

Thank You For Reading!

Some nice hurt/comfort to round off the month. It didn't make it into the fic but the reason that his captors split Soap's tongue is because he wouldn't stop talking back, just a fun fact for y'all.

Did anyone want me to make a masterlist for all of these? with ratings and short descriptions or something? there's already links to the full series on my masterlist, but that just has the prompts, so I was wondering if a masterlist would be helpful. Let me know!

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[oceantornadoo]

next time (johnny mactavish x f!reader)

heavy angst

“fuck, i’m hit.” you say into your comms, repeating it along with your call sign. you scramble around the side of the building, desperately looking for somewhere to sit or lay down. too bad the terrorists your team was currently hunting down didn’t think of their guests when they designed their hideout.

you lay down with you back to the wall as you put pressure on your wound, only to see blood dripping through your fingers. you’re bleeding too fast for a normal injury, the shrapnel from the bullet having nicked an artery internally. your vision starts going fuzzy as you suddenly turn desperate. you can see the reaper out of the corner of your eye, the room turning cold. not yet, you beg.

“bonnie, where are ye? come on, come on.”

“south-south side of the building. i don’t know where, i can’t - i can’t see.” your vision is fading, years of professionalism going down the drain as the tears start flooding down your face. out of all the bullet wounds you’ve survived, they’ve never felt like this. final.

you hear a skid of boots and a sharp curse down the hall. he’s here, he found you.

“johnny?” you hiccup, trying to hold your hand to your wound while feeling your strength fade.

“right here, leannan. come on, gotta get ye to exfil.” soap tries to prop you up, strong hand covering your own over the wound, a new source of pressure. you’re trying to stand but you can’t, instead emitting a whine of frustration.

“johnny, i can’t. it doesn’t feel right.” he’s the only thing you can see, tunnel vision creeping from all sides. this lovely man of yours, the one who gets on your last nerves daily but silently accepts your knocks at his door after nightmares. he’s always pushing your buttons, trying to see how far you can both take this push and pull before someone gives in. you know he’s meant for you, know him like the back of your hand because he’s you and you’re him, one and the same. all you wanted was more time, you see that now.

he’s murmuring to you in soothing tones while yelling into his comms for the rest of the team, pleading for backup. everyone is too far away, ambushed by unseen forces. it’s just you and him.

“johnny, johnny. look at me.” you leave a bloody handprint as you turn his chin, exerting far more effort than you physically can. he’s looking at you with love in his eyes, the yearning built up over years and years.

“no. not today.”

“i’m sorry. wanted more time with you. we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”

“leannan, no. stop.”

“in the next life, yeah? you’re my man, johnny.”

“yer my woman, leannan. i cannae-“ you stumble and he helps you back to the ground, realizing you won’t make it to exfil.

“cannae do this without you. please.” he’s murmuring silent prayers as you smile weakly, trying to take in his handsome face one last time before your vision goes dark. he pulls your forehead to his and breathes you in, souls entwining.

“next time?”

“always.”

—

inspired by cassian and nesta from acotar in that one scene

[mikichko]

THAT ANON BACK FOR A CUTE THOUGHT!!!!!! Johnny and Simon drive Zach to school everyday before Johnny drops Simon off at work. When you eventually fold into the family, you make a red light kiss tax. Everytime the car is stopped at a red light, she gives a kiss on the cheek to all her boys in the car. Ghoap used to hate red lights (impatient, both of them. Road rage but not really, yknow?), but now they find themselves hoping every light is red and taking the long way home just to hear you whoop and say “kiss tax!”

cariño i adore the way your brain works!!!!

it's like one of their favorite parts of the new family dynamics and literally why the boys prefer driving over any other mode of transportation. they fucking adore your kisses.

personal headcanon but i feel like the boys, really all of the 141, are incredibly touch starved. even when it was just johnny and simon they had a point of contact between them at all times, no matter how small. this extends to zach who is showered with all kinds of physical love. that boy is given kisses, hugs, piggyback rides, he's carried, he's bundled, he's cuddled, they do everything to make sure that their boy knows how much he's loved.

and then you, oh of course you! i personally feel like the kiss tax is started relatively early in your new established relationship. it's summer holiday, you've all managed to sync up your days off, and you decide to do a family day at the aquarium. you're still trying to find your footing on how you fit into ghoap's pretty established dynamic so the most physicality around this time is some slight brushes here and there. fun outing regadless.

the problem is that despite it being the summer holiday the traffic never eases up. so of course, when you're in the car for 15 minutes and you've only managed to inch forward through two green lights you sprint out the kiss tax. zach starts getting a little fussy in his seat, legs thumping on the plastic, sometimes the plush seat below it, when you absentmindedly plant a kiss on his cheek. he immediately squeals, causing soap to turn around and simon to glance in the rearview, and reels back from you.

"what was that!?" he giggles out and you just pinch his cheeks. "it's a kiss tax!"

up at the front johnny and simon exchange a glance, simon's grip on the wheel lessens a bit as you explain, "well, when there's a red light it means you get a kiss!" as if to prove your point, the yellow light in front of you turns and bathes the car in red.

zach glances back and forth excitedly between you and the light, practically bouncing off the seat, "does that mean I get another?"

"one for every red," you nod back before planting the next one on his forehead. he dissolves into giggles again, fingers prodding the spots where your lips just were a few moments ago.

soap's grinning now, body angled completely towards the both of you his left arm resting on simon's left shoulder, "first I'm hearing about this tax. is no age exception, right?" cheeky little smile shot at you.

you really can't help the heat rushes to your face at this man, who you still cannot believe you're in a relationship with, is so openly gunning for a kiss from you. really he wants a lot more but baby steps you shake your head back at him, "no age exceptions. everyone's subject to the kiss tax"

soap feigns a dramatic gasp, "love," he pats simon's shoulder, "ye hearin'? committing tax fraud in our very own car, can ye believe?"

simon just hums in acknowledgement before johnny continues, "cannae have that. upstanding citizen's we are. if we've got to be taxed, we'll be taxed with honor." and he offers his cheek to you.

you're still a little timid but you press a soft little kiss to his cheek before pulling back a bit. johnny shoots you a pleased little smile, "cannae forget about sprout too, lass," tilting his head over towards simon. who is still staring ahead, watching for openings but the corners of his mouth are ticked upwards. they spread wider when you press a kiss to his cheek, catching both the smooth and scraggly parts of his face. they're all pleased as punch.

the ride back home is just more red lights and rounds of kisses til you make it home. johnny manages to tilt his head at just the right second on one of the kisses and plant a nice big kiss on your lips. simon, trying his best to be diligent, turns just enough for you to plant one of the corner of his lips, with a promise of a proper kiss at home.

not only do they enjoy red lights not but johnny and simon flip a coin every time they're about to get into the car to see whose going to drive and whose going to be the one to get lenghier kisses out of you.

[psychesetra]

platonic hazbin x child reader who committed suicide at twelve

imagine a gen z child reader with a shit ton of trauma but layers like a bonkers amount of sass, sarcasm, wit and dark humour on it all

lmao charlie essentially has some sort of little sibling figure you cannot tell me that despite the massive generational gap alastor will find the sass and sarcasm funny as hell

reader is on no one's side they just do whatever (yes they will join the bickering between alastor and lucifer and you will never know who they'll side with this time)

..understands angel's jokes a little too well for 12

reader w autism n adhd too like.. please..,..,.,. intp too

and and and like imagine alastor is just talking abt murder maybe a soul or two that he ripped apart and reader just offhandedly mentions something like "well that's cool but have you spilled an estimated 30,000 gallons of blood?" aka a fun fact from the second punic war battle of cannae august 2nd 216 bc because reader is a NERDDD

reader who was interested in psychology and proceeds to be a mini therapist because holy shit do you know how quickly i profiled these goddamn fictional characters

"you know maybe you should stop pretending to be some sort of big bad overlord for like.. a few seconds. maybe you'll actually relax" "Pardon?"

"are you sure you're drinking for fun or is your constant state of drinking an attempt to cover up shame for something or shame for drinking in the first place" "kid what the fuck"

(during the extermination) "okay chat today we're going to replicate history using the tactic from the battle of cannae" "READER GET OUT OF HERE YOU'RE A GODDAMN CHILD" "I WILL SHOOT SOMEONE I DON'T GIVE A FUCK IF I'M TWELVE" (alastor, from the roof:) "LANGUAGE!!!!!"

what if artsy reader too purely for this:

"have you made a duck that squirts out paint yet?" "..no, but that's a really cool idea, actually-"

HELPING CHARLIE WITH THE POSTER DESIGNS!!!!! JSHSHSHSHSHSHS

imagine also vaggie teaching reader how to fite bc its HELL for gods sake

pentious showing reader his blimp and how it works because i find machinery COOL!!!!!!!!!

..egg bois following reader around after pentious dies

cherri giving reader bombs and everyone is either completely horrified or very excited to see what reader will do with them because reader is unpredictable as shit

god i love the possibilities

[writebackatya]

Scrooge: Everyone, I have terrible news, as it turns out my trusted colleague, Bradford Buzzard, has been secretly working for FOWL this entire time

Della: {raises hands in the air} CALLED IT!

Donald: You did not…

Della: Yes I did! Ever since we were kids, Donnie, I did not trust him! I always said he was evil!

Donald: No, all you ever said was that he was a stick in the mud with a stick up his butt

Della: Well I’m wasn’t wrong there! Freaking bald bastard

Scrooge: Della! Please…

Della: What?! He’s officially a bad guy now! I’m just insulting him with straight up facts about him

Scrooge: Well some of us here are still processing the fact that a close colleague of ours would do something like this

Louie: {sudden realization} …He tried to kill me.

Della, Donald, & Scrooge: WHAT!?!

Louie: When I was the richest duck, he suggested that I turned off the magical defense system that was holding the Bombie as a way to save money! There’s no way he didn’t know about the Bombie, right? So yeah, I’m waaaay past the whole “processing” part. I’m ready to start making fun of the bald bastard

Donald: Louie!

Della: Wait. Bambi tried to kill you?

Scrooge: Getting back on track, all of us need to stay alert! We cannae trust anyone anymore, so be aware of anyone suspicious

Louie: Like Uncle Donald’s new girlfriend?

Della & Huey: WHAT!?!

Dewey: Yeah, you guys didn’t hear?! When Louie and I executed our brilliant plan to help get The Three Caballeros on Ms. Glamour’s It List, Uncle Donald fell in looooooooooovvvvve!

Della & Huey: OooOOooooo!

Louie: {shows the two a pic of Daisy} She’s like a 9 while he’s a 5 at best

Della: {looks at the phone} Hmmm…Oh yeah that is suspicious…

Donald: Oh gee, thanks everybody

Louie: Okay, sorry. High 5

Dewey: {slaps his hand against Louie’s}

Huey: Uncle Donald, we’re all just surprised AND happy that you found someone!

Della: Yeah. Wish you told us sooner, that’s like major news there! That’s like if you never told the boys about me when you and Uncle Scrooge were raising them Webby: Well actually- Scrooge: {jumps in before Webby can say anything while Donald silently mouths the words "Not now!" as he shakes his head at Webby} We all need to be extra careful these days. Gyro, how is security at the Bin? Gyro: Better than ever, Mr. McDuck! Nobody will be able to break into the bin without my knowledge Huey: What about Mark Beaks? Gyro: No! That was a fluke... Dewey: Glomgold? Gyro: He had the stopwatch! That doesn't count! Louie: Gee, I wonder how he got his hands on that... Gyro: Oh I don't wanna hear it, Green Nephew Della & Donald: Louie... Webby: ...Oooh! What about Agent Dee? We haven't heard from her in awhile and she might break in! Fenton: Ha-ha, whaaaaaat? Gyro: Like I said, security is better than ever and it is impossible for anyone to break in. Right, Dr. Intern?! Fenton: Yeah, right...{phone buzzes} So is this meeting over, I gotta go... Della: OooOoo. Got a hot date? Fenton: YES! I MEAN NO! I MEAN...I gotta go! {walks out of the room} Della: {whispers to Donald & Gyro} Oh he's seeing someone. And they're totally doing it Donald & Gyro: {exasperated sigh}

[princeloww]

Hi takin over the asylum fandom

I finished this show a few days ago and have been rapidly consuming everything I could fandom-wise. During this, I read most of the TOTA fanfiction I could find on AO3, and noticed a common pattern.

Writers, non-Scottish, tend to use "Aye", like the characters in the show, yet I've never seen a writer use "Nae". Maybe this is because they aren't too sure of it or how to spell it/correctly use, so I thought I'd explain it a bit if anybody is confused!

Disclaimer - I am not Scottish, but I am from Ireland, so I have a vague idea of some IRISH slang, which isn't too far from some Scottish slang. Feel free to correct me!

"Aye" means yes.

Everyone seems to get this one.

"Aye, but" = "Yes, but"

Simple as that. It doesn't necessarily always work with "yes" subbed in, but it's just an affirmative phrase, really.

It is from Gaelic. Gaelic is a Celtic language that dates back years and years ago. There are different branches (Irish and Scottish Gaelic, for example) that were caused by language spreading through things like trade between countries. Although Gaelic is not typically spoken, it still very much exists and is used in slang in both Scotland and Ireland.

On the opposite side, there is "nae", which means no. It is commonly used attached to can, "cannae", which is the equivalent of "cannot", and is very simple. It just goes in place of cannot.

"You cannae do that", for example, is the same as "You cannot do that", or "You can't do that".

If you want to make sure you're extra familiar with the slang before using it in fanfiction, out of fear of getting it wrong, just listen to examples of how it's used in the show (and its very often) until you're comfortable.

There are a lot more interesting slang terms to learn about, if you're interested in learning more about Scottish culture. (Ex. Dinnae - meaning don't, coming from "dae" meaning do.)

This is just for if you want to accurately copy the way the characters speak! I've seen a lot of writers disclaim that they might be out of character, as they themselves are not Scottish. You of course don't have to use the right slang for your fanfiction, it's still just as good without it, but some people prefer accuracy.

Hope this was semi-helpful! Please get writing fanfiction, I crave more content. Again, feel free to correct me - I don't mean to upset anybody, this post is mostly just for fun.

I've added some links below if you're interested on reading some more!

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Tickletober Day 3: Prank

Fandom: Star Trek (post-Into Darkness)

Pairing: Scotty and Chekov (platonic)

Summary: Chekov has the engineering department help him play a prank on Scotty.

(This story is set after the Star Trek: Into Darkness movie ❤️ :) I estimate the age of Chekov in the movie to be 18 ❤️ :) I know his age is mentioned in the first movie but I can't remember if it's mentioned in the second movie or not ❤️😅)

Engineering was a disaster!

Sirens filled the room while red shirted individuals stumbled around in a panic. Matching red lights gave the darkened space an eeire atmosphere.

Scotty jumped the last few steps into the main engine area. He grabbed a nearby officer, "What's going on?"

"No clue sir. The engines just won't cool."

"Double check the coolant."

"We have. Nothing's wrong with it."

"Mister Scott!" A new voice yelled.

"Chekov!"

The teen yanked up the googles on his face. "Ve found it!"

"The problem with the engines?"

"Yes!" Chekov pulled Scotty forward. "Ower here!"

The teen quickly lead the head engineer over to a corner. "Look!"

"I cannae see anything."

"The wents!" Chekov cried while pointing up to one of them.

Scotty immediately noted a trail of smoke coming out of the mentioned vent. The engineer darted over and yanked on the grate. Smoke could mean a multitude of problems in an engine room.

Someone yanked the Scotsman's hand away before shoving a screwdriver into it.

"Thanks lad," Scotty replied before pushing him back. "Everyone, step back!"

Immediately, the group of red shirts surrounding the Scotsman all took several steps back. Once he was in the clear, Scotty quickly removed the screws from the vent and, at the moment, did not care if they scattered across the floor. One final swift tug had the cover dislodging in his hands.

Then an explosion knocked the Scotsman back.

Scotty barely registered the blow as a stream of smoke filled glitter found it's way down his throat just as the sirens went silent.

After a beat, the entire engine room exploded into laughter.

A nearby lad snorted. "You should have seen yohour fahace!"

"Hehe lohooked lihike he wahas going tohoo pee himsehelf!" Another cried out.

Scotty pulled himself to his feet. "Enough!"

A mass of people fell quiet.

"All of you. In line, at attention. Now! Now!"

The energy in the room picked back up as everyone rushed to comply.

Scotty brushed glitter off of his shirt while pacing up and down the line. "Let me make one thing clear. Do not, under any circumstances, disrupt the flow of this ship. There is a time for laughter and a time for fun, but in the heart of the ship, where the slightest problem could signal death for thousands of lives is not one of them!"

Not a one of the people in that line could make eye contact with the head engineer.

"If ya care to gamble with your own life, by all means, go right ahead. But do not gamble with the lives of your fellow crew members! Ya don't want the innocent blood of an entire ship on your hands."

The Scotsman eyed each individual in line closely. However, the guilt on everyone's faces made it hard to determine who was the mastermind and who were the followers.

"Now, would the genius who lead this entire operation please step forward?"

No one moved a muscle.

"Oh come on, don't be shy now. Own up to your brilliance."

Scotty observed several individuals sending quick glances to one person in particular.

"Mr. Chekov."

The teen's head immediately snapped up. His face was a mix of panic and apprehension. "Yes?"

"Step forward lad."

Chekov took one small step forward.

Scotty strolled toward him. "Mr. Chekov, why are you down here?"

"V-vell. . . I vas off duty and vanted to find m-my way around the engine room better. I-in case the keptain needed me down here a-again . . ."

As the teen continued his explanation, Scotty took the time to study his body language. One thing of interest was the lad's hands. They were balled up inside the sleeves of his uniform rather than out by his side.

Scotty made eye contact with Chekov. He held out his hand.

At first, the teen was confused. "V-vhat do you---."

"Your hand Chekov."

Chekov's mouth clamped shut.

"Let me see your hand."

With great hesitation, the teen placed one balled up fist in the Scotsman's hand.

Scotty latched onto his wrist. He then yanked the fabric of his uniform off of Chekov's hand to reveal blueish purple smears that sparkled in the low lights.

"Everyone hold out your hands."

The entire line obeyed

"Would ya look at that." Scotty then compared the marks on his uniform with the color on Chekov's hands. "Not a mark on them."

"I-I can explain!"

Scotty made eye contact with the teen. "Did someone else make you build it?"

Chekov's gaze lowered to the ground. "No."

"I see." Scotty turned back to the others. "This place better be spotless when I get back. Understood?"

A few nods rippled through the line.

"Then get to work!" The Scotsman yanked Chekov's wrist as he started walking. "You're coming with me."

"Vait! I'm sorry Mister Scott. It vas just a prank!"

"Not in my ship."

As the two were headed up the stairs, Spock and Kirk started coming down the stairs.

"Scotty, what happened?" Kirk asked.

"I'm taking care of it Captain," the Scotsman replied as he brushed past the two.

Kirk looked between Scotty and Checkov. "Very well. Carry on."

Chekov's eyes widened. "Keptain vait!"

However, the teen's protests went unanswered. He was forced to follow along as Scotty pulled him down the hall.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

"But eweryone's okay."

"And what would ya had done if that explosion had gone off early and hurt someone? Or worse?" Scotty demanded while shoving the teen through the door of his quarters.

"B-but . . ."

"Pav, look at me." Scotty gestured to himself. "You set it too high."

"Vhat?"

"Any higher and that glitter could have taken out one of my eyes."

The teen's eyes went wide. "No. No, I made sure. . ."

Scotty watched as the realization hit Chekov. He scrutinized the splatter of paint and glitter. It was indeed higher than it should have been. "See what I mean laddie?"

The statement settled into the air. A moment later, Chekov's gaze lowered to the floor. "I'm sorry. I-I thought I had it set right."

Scotty's demeanor softened. "I know ya didn't mean any harm Pav. It was supposed to be all in good fun."

The teen looked up at the Scotsman. "Does this mean I'm not being punished?"

"Oh not in the slightest."

"Dang it!"

Scotty chuckled. "Nice tryhy."

A squeal of surprise left the teen as the Scotsman attacked him.

"Ya think I'd let you off that easily?" Scotty teased as he dug his fingers into Chekov's sides.

"Noho! Mihisteher Scohott!"

"Come on." Scotty spidered up to the teen's ribs. "Can't handle a little ticklihing?"

"Ah! Nyehet! Nyehet!"

"Do ya even eat laddie?" The Scotsman squeezed both sides of his ribs. "I can wrap both my hands around ya."

Chekov snorted.

"Was that aha snohort?"

"No!"

"Do not lie to me!" Scotty's fingers dug into the teen's armpits. "I know what I heard."

Meanwhile, Chekov was in stitches. He tried to squirm out of the hold, but Scotty had him pinned well. The only thing he managed to accomplish was making a mess out of his already wild curls.

"Will ya set off any more explosives on my ship?"

The teen couldn't respond through his bright peals of laughter.

"Laddie---?"

Chekov managed to launch himself forward and sent both of them tumbling to the floor.

Scotty broke out into his own laughter. A moment later, he jumped back on top of the teen. "Get back here ya little bugger!"

Chekov squealed and buried his face into the floor.

However, the Scotsman kept him pinned while his hands started back on their attack.

"Mister Scohott! Nahaha!"

"Ya still haven't answered myhy question Pahav."

"Whihich ohone!"

"Wihill ya set ohoff any more explosions on my shihip?"

"Noho!"

"What was thahat?"

Chekov snorted again and grabbed onto the Scotsman's wrists. "Nehever! Never agahain!"

"Thought we could come to an agreement." Scotty paused his tickles long enough to make eye contact with the teen. "And if ya do, I won't go as easy on ya."

Chekov reached behind him and gave Scotty a shove.

"Oi!" The Scotsman ground his knuckles into the teen's curls.

"Ah! Nyehet!" Chekov gave him another shove. "Get ohoff!"

Scotty stood and helped the teen to his feet. He slipped out of his ruined red shirt. Thankfully his black under shirt underneath had been spared from the glittery explosion.

Scotty handed the red shirt to the teen. "Ya can spend the rest of the time before your next shift figuring out a way to get this concoction out of my work uniform."

Chekov sighed as he snagged the shirt. "Aye sir."

"Good lad." Scotty nodded to the door. "Now off with ya."

The teen gave the Scotsman a mock salute. He then spun around and walked out of the man's quarters.

Scotty chuckled and shook his head. The way Chekov normally acted, he often forgot the lad was barely 18. Stunts like this showed he still had some of that immaturity that a teen should have.

After pulling on a new red shirt and scrubbing most of the concoction from his face, Scotty headed back down to the engine room. Unfortunately, he still had the immaturity of his department to address before he would be fully satisfied.

[soaps-hoe-141]

Back Together

Part 17

Pairing: Soap x Ghost

WC: 6k

Synopsis: We putting furniture together and breaking it

Warnings: Imma just say a general NSFW 18+ warning, minors DNI

Pieces were scattered around the now empty room. They had thrown the boxes of clothes into the guest bedroom to get them out of the way while they were working but so far the most the two had done was argue about which pieces connected where. Ghost was holding the instructions in his hand, his ears red in anger and his knuckles white from the force of his grip on the thin paper, it was gonna tear apart soon if he kept holding on to it. Hazel eyes stared Soap down with a death glare unlike any other, and yet still didn't even faze the Scotsman. The dark haired man was looking at the picture on the box, pointing between one of the framing boards in the picture and to the one laying on the ground, "Ghost I'm telling ye. Ye attach the leg where the braces go on the other side. I mean look at the picture, are ye gonnae tell me that I'm wrong?"

The big man took in a deep breath, the frown on his face deepening before he dropped the instructions letting them fall to the floor, "Fine."

Soap gave a firm nod then and started attaching the pieces how he saw them in the picture, ignoring the instructions on the ground and Ghost’s unhelpful form standing idly. Finally the Scotsman shot him a glare, "You could at least hand me the bolts and the nuts." Ghost growled at his words but leaned down and picked up the bag and threw one of the bolts at him whenever he asked from his spot near the bathroom door. He put the drawers in the storage bed together painfully slowly by himself. It was hard to hold the torque wrench, the bolts, and the pieces he was putting together with only two hands. Soap’s hand threw up in the air, "Please Ghost would ye help me hold the feckin boards? I cannae do it meself. I dinnae have enough hands man!" His accent was coming out thick now, his voice near shouting at the unmasked Ghost.

Hazel eyes narrowed at him with a glare before he hobbled carefully towards him before shrugging, "Damn Johnny, seems I can't get over there with the crutches and all."

Soap's face was red in anger to match Ghost’s now as he dropped the boards, "Ye know what? Awa' n bile yer heid. I'm gonnae go eat lunch. I'll come back to this later when yer attitude is better." The Scotsman dropped the tools and headed for the door, marching down the hallway with tension in his shoulders, and furious curses escaping his lips. He opened the fridge, making himself a bowl of the stew from the night before, begrudgingly making a second bowl to give to the Brit. He was angry and frustrated, but he didn't want to keep the arguments alive, and everyone knew the easiest way to settle an argument between anyone, give the motherfucker food. He heated them both up, fingers tapping against the granite countertops as he ignored the feeling of eyes burning into his spine. Sure enough when he turned around Ghost was there, leaning on his crutches and watching him with an annoyed look. "Here ye go, I made ye one too." Soap sat the bowl down in front of one of the stools, shoving a spoon into it and returning to where his own bowl was sitting on the counter.

Ghost stared at it for a moment before he sat down, unable to resist the smell of the stew he had devoured the night before like a starving dog. Soap cast his eyes down to the floor before pushing himself up onto the counter and eating his own slowly. They both had been frustrated with one another, unsure why the other couldn't just listen and do what they were told. A break was exactly what they needed though, especially a lunch break. Soap had been on the grind all day, going for a run all the way to the base to pick up Ghost's truck. He had then drove it all the way to the Furniture Depot, loaded the boxes by himself, drove back to Ghost’s house, and then unloaded them all by himself as well. Not to mention he had unpacked the box on his own since Ghost couldn't do any heavy lifting, and he was sure watching Soap doing everything on his own was driving the Lieutenant mad. The man liked doing things and being active, watching the other man doing everything he wanted to be doing had to be frustrating, without a doubt. It didn’t mean that him being annoying and stubborn just for the hell of it was ok though.

They ate quietly, neither one wanting to be the one to light the spark to their arguing once again. Soap was the first to finish, pushing off the counter and putting his bowl in the sink, he could wash them later when he was done putting that damn bed together. Ghost stood up as Soap turned to leave the kitchen and the Scotsman stopped to watch as he tried to pick up the bowl and walk with the crutches. He felt his jaw clench and he let out a deep breath before taking a step back towards the bar. Soap took the bowl out of the other man’s hand with a shake of his head, “You’re gonna fall on your face if you try that.” He set the bowl down in the sink leaving Ghost to trail behind him back to the bedroom.

He was sitting on the ground holding the boards together as he tried to bolt them. The frustration was building as he screwed the bolts in slowly, holding in a breath as he tried to keep his head on straight without blowing another fuse. Soap didn’t even notice him until Ghost stepped up beside him, lowering himself to the ground with a grunt and one leg until they were sitting side-by-side. The Scotsman turned to look at him with a defeated look on his face until Ghost gave him a soft smile, “Let me have the torque wrench, I’ll tighten and you hold the boards.”

Soap immediately handed him the wrench with a sigh of relief, “Thank Christ, I couldn’t take that shite anymore.” He put the boards together and watched as Ghost tightened some of them together. “Couldn’t take being quiet either, I’m not built for awkward silences Lt.” Ghost gave him a huff of agreement they both knew Johnny couldn’t be quiet if his life depended on it, literally.

They bolted the boards together, until the frame stood up on its legs, the drawers sliding into their respective spaces on the side of the frame. Soap stood beside the bed looking down on what they had put together with a proud smile. He turned his gaze up to the Lieutenant, “I told you we could do it without those stupid instructions Ghost. You should listen to me more often.”

Ghost watched the frame skeptically before glancing sideways at him, “Is that right…Aren’t you forgetting something Johnny?” Soap’s eyebrows furrowed, thinking quietly to himself before shaking his head and adding a shrug for good measure. “The mattress,” the Lieutenant deadpanned at him.

Soap’s eyes lit up “Oh yeah!” The Scotsman held up a finger and then ran out the door past him and back down the hall to the first bedroom where Ghost had showed him the mattress he had brought with him from wherever he had lived before. Soap dragged the mattress back down the hall, pushing it through the door past Ghost and lifting it up so that as he let it down it fell backwards onto the frame. It slotted in nicely and Soap’s smile lit up the room again, “Now it’s done.” Ghost gave him a quiet nod, not meeting his eyes as he turned to the door and headed out. Soap followed him quietly back out to the living room, watching the man disappear into the kitchen. The Scot stopped by the wall outlet, looking back down to the power tools and the two batteries sitting on the ground before scooping them up and following Ghost to the laundry room.

He was stopped by Ghost’s chest blocking him from going inside the room. His nose pressed against his shirt for a moment before he took a step back looking up at the tall man. “You should put these away…far away.”

Ghost stared at the compact circular saw and batteries that the shorter man was holding out to him. Finally, the man took it from him and grumbled, “Fine.” The door shut once again and he heard him rustling around in the room for a moment before he reappeared holding a set of sheets now. Soap took a step back, taking the sheets from his outstretched hands, his finger running across the back of Ghost’s hand as he pulled away, both glancing up at one another before turning their eyes back down to the floor. Soap dropped a hand to the hem of his shirt, lifting it to wipe the sweat off his face before he let it drop again. Glancing over his shoulder at the other man whose face was clearly flushed in the light of the kitchen. Soap ducked his head and hurried out and back down the hall to go put the sheets on the bed.

He had just finished putting them on when he turned to find Ghost in the doorway, watching him, he was always watching and sneaking. Soap glanced down at the bed, “It’s ready to use now Lt." He gave the bed a firm pat with one hand and asked, "Ready to sleep in an actual bed for once?” Ghost looked past him and nodded in answer, returning a hard look to his face, silent at the most uncomfortable time he could be. Soap ignored it though, like he always did and slid by the big man heading for the guest bedroom to steal more clothes so he could shower.

He heard Ghost trailing him, stopping in the doorway as Soap rifled through the bins, watching as he grabbed more clothes for the both of them. "I call dibs on the shower Lt, I smell like a fuckin horse," Soap said over his shoulder as he headed down the hall, still avoiding the gaze of the big man following him. He didn't wait for an answer though, just closed the door into the room and hung both sets of clothes up on the towel rack that he just realized Ghost never actually used for towels. He stripped and hopped in, washing the sweat off his skin and letting the warm water untense his muscles, trying his best to forget the burning desire he was sure he had seen in those hazel eyes. And yet as sure as he was that he had seen it he knew that it couldn't be real because they had set the boundary, well Ghost had set the boundary anyway, and he had been right. Neither of them could afford to break it and open up a can of worms they had no idea how to reseal.

Soap groaned, his forehead leaning forward against the wall of the shower, smacking against it repetitively as he tried to forget, begging his mind to let it go. "Probably not the best idea, just got over the last one," he muttered to himself, nearly forgetting why he and Ghost had been left behind in the first place. The Sergeant looked down at himself, taking a couple deep breaths to calm and center himself before he turned the shower off and got out, drying and dressing himself again. Once more the short sleeve shirt was too big, though at least the sleeves weren't loose around his arms, his own biceps filling out the shirt nicely. The joggers he had grabbed for himself clung to his ankles and gathered at the bottom, if he had grabbed the man's sweatpants he would have been dragging the pants legs underfoot with every step. He smirked at the thought, shaking his head and heading for the door.

He opened it to step out and was once again met with the Lieutenant's chest, his face pressing against the fabric of his shirt and his nose breathing in the scent of pine. Soap furrowed his brow to look up at the man and with sarcasm dripping from his tone said, "You know if you keep doing this Ghost I'm gonna start thinking you like my head between your tits."

Ghost watched him with that same look from before, hazel eyes burning as he stared down at him and then shrugged, "Maybe I do." Soap looked away for barely a second and Ghost shouldered by him this time, leaning his crutches on the sink as he sat on the lowered toilet seat. Blue eyes watched quietly, looking up to inspect his face for a moment before he left the bathroom to get the plastic wrap and the duct tape so the big man could take a shower. And also to hide himself for a moment to process Ghost's words away from those staring eyes.

A war raged inside him, it felt almost like Ghost was taunting him. Like the man wanted Soap to do something now, to make a move he had already made and lost out on once. He was tempting him with burning stares that lit a flame in the Scotsman that he wasn't sure the Lieutenant could smother if he kept this up. He had told Soap no, he had said it as plain as day, so why would he ever try to entice him again? Why would he hold the fruit in front of him and tell him never to go near it? Or was Ghost playing the role of the snake and he Eve, driving him closer and closer to the one thing he couldn't have in hopes he would take it. Did Ghost want him to be the one to take the first bite? Would Ghost let him take that bite? Had his mind changed from the last time it had been brought up? Thoughts were running wild in his mind, he couldn't control them anymore. He had been trying so desperately to respect Ghost's wishes, to be only his friend, but had that made him blind to some change in the Lieutenant? Had he not considered that the stubborn man's mind could be changed?

Soap stopped in the doorway of the bathroom, Ghost glancing up at him from where he was sitting before returning to shimmying his shorts off as best as he could, his torso already bare and shirt laying on the ground. Blue eyes took in the view slowly, eyes sliding over the scarred skin, catching on every line made by a bullet or knife and tracing the black lines of the tattoos that decorated his pale form. Soap watched the muscles move underneath skin, just barely contained by his fleshy prison. The man turned his gaze back to him as the Scotsman kneeled, wrapping the cast slowly to protect it from the water. He was about to stand when he felt Ghost’s fingers graze over his cheek, before returning to where he had been bracing himself. That was no accident, a blatant touch, the snake's eyes were narrowed slightly and glued to his face, and his cheeks were as red as Soap's felt as he held the apple a bit closer for a bite.

He was agonizing over it, overthinking more than he even knew was possible. The Scot sat there, his limbs a dead weight as they watched each other. Soap's fingers tightened on the hard cast, before he leaned forward just slightly, half expecting Ghost to move away, to reject him again but he held firm. The tall man even went so far as to close his hazel eyes, eyebrows furrowing in consternation as he waited. It was Soap's decision now, his choice whether he took the plunge further into this and said fuck the consequences or pulled away and took the cowards way out. And if there was one thing he wasn't, it was a coward.

The Scot leaned forward, his lips landing lightly on the other man’s. They were a bit chapped but they still felt nice against his own, hell his were chapped too after going for a run and being up and about all day. They were both cautious at first, hesitant to take it further in case they scared the other one away. But as in all things Soap pushed past the boundaries and left his anxiety behind to press further, ignoring his worries to protect the other man’s peace of mind. He pushed himself up from his knees, lips driving the man back and his hands coming up to his cheeks, holding the scarred face between his palms reverently.

Ghost sighed at the contact and the intimacy between them, and his lips parted for just a moment. It was just long enough for Soap to press his advantage, tongue dipping into the other's mouth to taste what he had been aching for, for months now. Ghost didn't disappoint as his own hands found the Scot's sides running up before he reached his neck, holding him there as they explored one another’s mouths. Began to learn the many ways to draw out the little sighs of pleasure and the whines for more. Ghost was the first to break, a soft whine escaping his throat and his hips rolling forward as he searched for friction but found none as he couldn't move more than a few inches up. Soap was quick to answer the quiet plea for more though, his knee leaning in the space between his thighs and he couldn't help the grin that formed on his face at the hard length that pressed into his thigh nearly immediately, separated from his skin only by thin fabric.

The Scot relished in Ghost’s needy half thrusts, letting him grind his hardening member into his thigh. He felt his own body reacting, his own length hardening in the gray joggers, his own need rising painfully and begging for attention. Soap's fingers that had been tangling themselves into blonde locks pulled the man back with a firm tug as he too pulled back. Blue eyes stared down at the man that for once he was towering over, watching as the hazel eyes opened revealing the soft, needing gaze that was lit beneath those pale lids. "Johnny," his deep voice growled out, his strong hands trying to pull him back before he grabbed the thick forearm and pressed a feather light kiss against the inside of his wrist.

He rested his cheek against the outstretched palm and answered quietly, "Not here. I didn't just put a bed together to fuck you on a toilet seat Simon." The Scotsman smirked down at the blonde man who was grinning back. He leaned down, pulling the plastic wrap off in a few easy rips, before he helped the big man stand back up. Soap would have carried him to the bedroom but he was worried about the cast and possibly hurting him more, and that wasn't a chance he was willing to take, especially not when he was so close to getting what he had been pining after for months.

Soap unwound the arm from around his shoulders, watching Simon fall to the bed with a sigh of relief. His underwear barely kept him covered now, and the Scot just barely dragged his eyes away. The only thing that could get his attention was the calloused hand grabbing his wrist with that signature tug at his arm and the smiling eyes that looked up at him. Soap dove head first into the man again. This time more urgent, hungry, and wanting, no this was far past want and desire, this was need like a drowning man needed air or a starving man needed food. Ghost was his sustenance now, the thing holding his life force together.

His lips were no longer gentle, his teeth biting at the other man's already chapped lips and Ghost returned the same urgency tenfold. His hands ran under the hem of the thin t-shirt that he had stolen from the big man’s clothes. Thumbs traveled up the center of his abdomen, tracing the line of his abs in the center and then up his ribs before they circled around to his back trying to pull the Scot down on his lap. Or at the very least get the relief that his thigh had provided moments before. Soap upped his game though, moving his freehand down to palm at the hard erection held at bay by the thin fabric of Simon’s underwear. Again the big man let out a soft moan, his hips bucking up into his hand and Soap’s tongue went to work tasting his mouth, wanting to remember that delicious taste until the day he laid six feet under.

Nothing from his dream could have compared to the real thing. The heavy pants as Soap worked him expertly through the fabric, the hard scrape of his short stubble against his own, and the way Simon was desperately trying to rid the Scot of the t-shirt unsuccessfully wanting to see and touch what was under the fabric. His usually deft fingers couldn’t work while Soap was drowning every sense he had, overstimulating him as he crowded in on the bigger man, both needing more from one another. The Scot pressed him back into the bed before he broke the kiss, whispering over Ghost’s now kiss swollen lips, “Back up.” It didn’t even take a second before the big man pushed himself further up the bed until his legs no longer hung off the end. Soap hopped on then, chasing after him and the bed lurched sideways, an audible crack coming from underneath them as the once upright bed fell to rest level on the ground. Blue hues looked over the side of the bed with wide eyes before he turned to find familiar hazel hues watching him.

There was a smirk on Ghost’s face and Soap could see the ‘I told you’ coming but the other man never got the chance to get it out. Their lips reconnected for just a moment before the Scotsman’s mouth left his, moving slowly down to the hard line of his jaw, biting lightly at the thin skin before soothing the red mark he left with a light kiss. His mouth kept moving lower, lips sucking bright, red marks onto the thin skin all over the expanse of his neck. One hand holding him off the big man who was gasping at the light suckling and even more so at the hand that was traveling achingly slow down his torso. Soap’s fingers took their time to memorize the curve and lines of his muscles and scars until he found the waistband and slipped his long fingers underneath.

He took the weight of Simon’s erection in his hand, moving slowly over the sensitive skin until he felt the blonde man buck up into his firm grip. Soap smirked as he finished leaving a mark along Ghost’s collarbone, looking up at the man whose mouth was held open with quiet gasps stuck in his throat and his eyes shut tight as he tried not to come undone beneath his touch. He pressed light kisses down his chest slowly, leaving a trail to where he was headed. Lips touched against the hard line of the v at his hips and he sat up, both hands fingering the waistband of the boxers for a moment before he slid them down slowly to reveal the large cock he had been wanting to lay eyes on for so long now.

It was leaking and ached to find release, he could tell that easily enough. Soap leaned down, his nose flicking against it for just a moment before he looked up through dark lashes to see hazel eyes burning with desire as they looked back at him. A small smile found his lips then, his tongue flicking out and running from the base to the tip, flattening across the head and enjoying the salty taste that gathered on his tongue. The gasps that had been quiet for the most part up until then couldn’t be held back anymore. Simon groaned out, a strong hand grabbing at his shoulder and digging into the muscle as he tried to ground himself so he didn’t float away. The other hand was immediately tangled into his dark locks, pushing his head back down, nearly begging the Scot for more. And who was Soap to deny the man what he so desperately needed?

Soap picked his member up with one hand, tongue running across the tip again and eliciting another moan from the man beneath him. The Scotsman wrapped his lips around the head before he pushed himself down the length, humming with delight as he got what he had been dreaming about for so long. He hadn’t realized until then just how big the other man was, his mouth opening a bit too wide to compensate for the girth and feeling like his lips cracked at the corner. He felt the head hit the back of his throat and continue down, the length of it nearly choking him.

His nose touched Simon’s pelvis and he felt his throat tighten, wanting to gag before he pushed back the urge, relaxing the muscles only for Ghost to moan out loud at the sensation, the hand tangled in his hair forcing him even further down and holding him there. It took everything in him not to choke on the long cock shoved down his throat but he finally managed to pull himself off much to Ghost’s frustration. His hand took the place of his mouth as he fought to catch his breath and he heard the deep voice above him mutter, “Fuck, ‘m sorry Johnny. ‘M sorry. Fuckin hell I need-” he was cut off by a loud moan that seemed to bubble up from his chest while his hips bucked up into the firm grip around him.

“It’s ok Simon, I’ve got you. Tell me what you need, I’m here,” and Soap meant it. He would make sure the big man was taken care of before even himself, just as he did in all things. Soap felt the hand still holding the back of his head pull his eyes up to find the hazel staring hard at him.

“I need you, mmm fuck…I need you- I need to feel you,” his hands worked erratically now at the collar of the t-shirt the Scotsman was wearing. It only took a second for Soap to pull the fabric off over his head and throw it across the room to land in the beginnings of a pile with Ghost’s boxers. Callused hands ran across his chest, the light down of dark hairs there scratching both of their skin. The hand ranged lower, across the tight flesh of his abdomen before it caught in the waistband of the borrowed joggers. Hazel eyes turned down to look at the visible outline of his own arousal. A loud groan left the big man again and he bucked up into the still pumping hand, his eyelids closing to cover the burning desire. Soap lowered himself on an elbow beside the Lieutenant, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder before moving slowly towards his chest. His tongue flicked out, dragging over a nipple before he caught it in his teeth, working it with a deft tongue. He felt the man’s back arch into his touch and then his light whine at the stimulation that came from too many sides now.

Soap hummed again as he sucked, sending a shock through the man feeling one of his hands dig into the back of his hair. Then the fingers released again, moving slowly down his back to disappear beneath the waistband of the joggers, curling into the flesh there and holding on for what seemed like dear life. His own hips now rolled against Ghost’s thigh, aching for his own release as he continued to deny himself even a hand, too busy working the thick cock in his hand to worry about himself. He leaned across the pale, scarred chest and took hold of the other nipple, enjoying the taste of the sweat on the other man’s skin. Soap was lost in the dealing of pleasure now, wanting to see the man unravel at his touch and forgo his own ecstasy until Ghost pulled his face up with a hand on his jaw. Blue eyes searched hazel quietly, wondering why the man had stopped him with a hand on his face and another on his wrist until Ghost whispered quietly, “Your drawing, Johnny. I want you to do what you drew last night.”

Eyes widened in surprise, he certainly hadn’t expected to hear that from the big man currently losing himself under his touch. “Are you sure?” Ghost nodded his head without a thought, pressing himself into Soap’s hand harder. The Scotsman gave a quiet nod in answer as he pushed himself up, pulling his joggers off and throwing them with the other clothes onto the floor. He wrapped a hand around himself, pumping a couple times before spitting into his hand and repeating the motion. Soap climbed onto the bed on his knees, Ghost watching him with a lust filled gaze that made his hand pump faster and his grip tighten around himself. “Fuck, you keep looking at me like that Si, I’m not even gonna make it back over there.” A small grin found the big man’s face as Soap slid back over, laying himself between the other’s legs, holding himself up with one elbow while his other hand ghosted over a thick thigh, tracing the muscle he had often found himself staring at.

He pressed their lips together again, hips rutting into the other man’s. He felt the heavy press of the hard member against his lower stomach, both reveling in the friction they were sharing. Soap’s fingers slid down Ghost’s thighs, pressing against the tight ring of muscle before he pressed a finger inside. The chapped lips opened in a gasp, hazel eyes opening and his back arching up to press their bodies together. Soap pulled his mouth away, biting his lip as he watched Ghost’s face contort from a wince, to confusion, and then to relief before he gave a slow nod and whispered, “G-go.” His finger started to move, slowly at first to match the pace of his still rutting hips, his mouth having moved down to taste his neck again, soft lips scraping against the scruff that ran down his jaw.

“Fuck you taste so good,” he paused to suck another mark onto Ghost’s neck, and slide another finger inside. The Scotsman hummed against pale skin, fingers scissoring inside him and gasps escaped his mouth again. The big body beneath him squirming underneath the weight of the smaller man on top.

Their hips pressed hard together, his own aching erection growing tired of the teasing friction that was going nowhere. He was so distracted by Ghost’s quiet noises and their bodies moving against one another he didn’t realize when the big hand moved between them. He grabbed both of them at the same time, Soap gasping into the bruised neck as Ghost’s hand pumped them, sending shocks of pleasure through them both. “Johnny,” the deep voice paused waiting for an answer but Soap was lost in the haze of lust until the man stopped his hand, getting a slight whine from the man on top of him. “Johnny,” he paused again and this time he got a grunt of acknowledgement as the Scot bucked his hips up bringing a gasp out of them both before the Lieutenant continued, “I’m done waiting.”

Soap was drunk on Ghost’s scent but even so he heard that plain as day. He pulled his fingers out slowly before pushing himself up on both elbows, looking down at the man and using a hand to position himself. Ghost shifted underneath him at the light touch and Soap nuzzled his face against the crook of the big man’s neck before whispering, “Are you sure?” He got only a nod in response before he pressed slowly inside, holding himself still for a moment his heart pounding in his ears until he felt Ghost shifting against him, his head tilted back as he begged for Soap to move, the request falling on nearly deaf ears. The Scotsman nodded slowly, pressing further inside while his forehead tilted forward, laying against the chest below him. Ghost fingers grabbed at his back as he rocked slowly into him, his thrusts shallow while fingernails dug into his back, marring his freckled skin and creating constellations across his flesh. Soap heard the low grunts but he didn’t realize it was his own voice at first until he heard Ghost growl beneath him.

He picked his head up, studying the Lieutenant’s face as he rocked into him, his hips grinding hard against Ghost’s every time he bottomed out. Soap’s hand ran along the thick thigh again, pulling it up to hook around his hip as the deep voice growled out, “Faster.” He immediately complied, speeding up slowly at first, still grinding at the end of every thrust until the voice once again demanded more from him. Soap’s head hung as his hips pistoned into the man, listening to Simon’s groans now.

“Fuckin hell Simon,” Soap let out a low moan before continuing, “you’re so perfect. Fuck, I didn’t realize how much I need you, Si.” The tension in his body was growing tighter and he knew he was getting close. Simon had scratched fine art into his back and had moved on to his arms and sides, hips rising to meet every thrust as best he could. Soap reached his freehand between them, grabbing the hard cock that bounced on Simon’s stomach, stroking in time with every thrust. He couldn’t cum himself until he knew that Ghost had been satisfied.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Ghost panted out, trying to control his racing mind but with every movement from Soap it just drove something else out of his mouth, “Johnny, fuck, ‘m close. Don’t stop. Don’t-” a low moan fell out of his mouth when Soap hit something he had never felt before, and his mind started to go blank. The Scotsman hit it again and his moan was louder before he panted out, “There, Johnny.” He felt Soap nod against his chest, a hard thrust landing again and when a choked moan left his throat, he felt Ghost’s hips buck and stutter and then they halted mid thrust. Blue eyes looked down watching as cum painted his fist as he continued to fuck the man through his orgasm. Watching the beautiful sight scratched the itch he had needed, his own hips stuttered in their thrusts as he pushed inside a few more times before he stilled. His breath caught in his throat, his mind going blank for a few minutes as he held himself up.

When he felt Ghost’s hand slide up his side the arm holding him up gave out and he let himself relax into the man’s embrace. Laying down on top of him, his cheek pressing against Ghost’s chest while his eyes closed. He felt the callused hands run across his skin, soothing the scratches that he had created. Soap slowly pulled out, Ghost letting out a low groan before he wrapped his arms around the big man. Their sweaty skin seemed to melt together as both laid quietly, enjoying the haze they had created for themselves. Soap lifted himself for just a moment to reach down for the sheet he had put on the bed earlier and pull it over them. He felt Ghost’s chest rumble out a low laugh as he muttered, “If I had known this would shut you up I would have done this a long time ago.” Soap didn’t even let out a grunt, just tightened his arms around Ghost and closed his eyes, enjoying the peace his mind felt.

ATTENTION: This is the end of the chapter just wanted to make it clear I support switch!Ghost and switch!Soap. They will both be topping and bottoming in this fic.

[asunnydog]

@troubledcentaurandcompany

The brawny minotaur, at least the size of this miss, straightened up beneath the barrel he had hoisted over one shoulder. "Cannae say I have," he mused, tapping his chin. "But I know some land hereabouts that it might've stopped a while, good grazin' spots, ye ken?" The barrel came down, gentle as a whisper, before the man stood up again and held out a hand, his mop of blond hair obscuring his eyes enough that his new friend wouldn't notice if he stole a glance or two at her chest. But since he just as dressed as her, well, turnabout was fair play. "Name's Quinton, but m'friends call me Quint," he said with a warm smile. "I'll help ya look fer yer roamin' lamb."

"Aye, wont be suprised if ta daft lass wanted something new ta knack on."

The large pup was obviously amused whenshe finally caught a full sight of the minotaur: did all mythmen in these parts dress the same? messy hair over the eyes, and showing off probably a little more than they should. Atleast it didn't look like the cold bothered him...esepcailly didn't give him any issues with self-esteem.

"Pleased ta meet'chya, Quint - Caitir, but m'friends, and well everyone, just calls me Cait. I'd love ta see what fields ya know of, lamb or not.

...I suppose we both gonna patch that we're a few beauts with kilts that ain't hiding much?"

[sassenach77yle]

You gave me a gift Claire when you told me Randall was alive. A gift: knowing I’d be the one to end that bastard’s life. 

No. Now I claim that gift.

Please, listen to me, Jamie. You can’t kill Randall.

There’s no reason—

—Because of Frank.

Frank?

If you kill Randall now, then Frank, he won’t be born.

What do you mean?

Remember I told you once that Frank showed me his family tree and on it was the name Jack Randall?

Aye.

He married Mary Hawkins. Together they’re supposed to have a child, and that child is Frank’s ancestor. But if you kill Randall before the child is born, then it would be as if you’re killing Frank too. And he won’t exist, and he must exist. It’s part of the future.

I thought we were here to change the future.

Frank’s innocent in all this. You can’t kill an innocent man.

Innocent?

He’s committed no crime against either of us.

For that, Jack Randall should live? I-I can stand a lot, more than most. I’ve proven as much. But must I bear everyone’s weakness? May I not have my own?

You of all people cannot ask that of me, Claire. You were there. You saw what he did to me.

A delay—a delay is all I ask—

—No. No you have your choice: him or me? I canna live while Randall lives. If you won’t allow me to kill him, then kill me now yourself.

One year. One year. Then the child, Randall’s, it will be conceived by then and after that I swear—I swear I will help you bleed him myself. You owe me that much James Fraser. I’ve saved your life, not once but twice. You owe me a life.

I see. And now you claim your debt.

I can’t make you see reason any other way.

Jesus. God, Claire.

You’d stop me taking vengeance on a man that made me play his whore. A man that lived in my nightmares and in our bed. Who almost drove me to take my own life.

I’m a man of honor. I pay my debts. So tell now: is that what you’re asking of me? To pay you with the life of Black Jack Randall?

Yes.

A year. Not one day more. Do not touch me.

Outlander 2x05 “Untimely Resurrection”

[thesconesyard]

Yeehaw! I really, really, really wanted to make the uranium fit. With my fascination with all that is nuclear, uranium was the perfect, perfect prompt. Alas! With the unofficially Old West setting of my tale, it just did not fit with the timeline of uranium’s boom in the States. So, I substituted for what would have been a more likely Old West boom theme.

When the Cactus Blooms

24. Uranium Fever

“They found gold on the Herndorff place.”

Sulu’s statement had everyone at the table looking at him. He had gone to town that morning for some supplies and the mail.

“Everyone was buzzing about it at Gaila’s.”

“And what were you doing at Gaila’s?” Uhura asked with a wry smile.

“Catching up on the gossip of course,” Sulu smiled broadly back.

“That’s the saloon in town,” McCoy saw Chekov whisper to Jaylah.

“Uh huh,” Uhura laughed.

“Someone may have asked me to pick up a bottle of something for them while I was in town,” Sulu continued, and many sets of eyes looked down at McCoy.

“Hey!” he laughed in surprise. “It wasn’t me!”

“Sure Bones,” Jim said, eyes twinkling.

“Who it was is between me and them,” Sulu said.

“So what is happening at Herndorff’s?” Spock asked. “More searching? Mining?”

“Oh please don’t let it start a boom,” Christine groaned.

“We’ve had too much unlawfulness as it is lately,” Scotty agreed.

McCoy couldn’t help but see John Harrison’s and Krall’s faces behind his eyelids as he took a deep breath.

“They’re going to do some more searching, see if they can find more. Prospect a bit,” Sulu finally answered Spock.

“Well, good luck to them,” Jim said.

“What did you have Sulu bring?” McCoy asked as he and Scotty walked along the creek.

“Me?” Scotty asked, feigning surprise.

“Yes you,” McCoy laughed. “I know that glint in your eye and I saw it when Sulu said.”

“I’ve been drinking all your whisky, thought it was time to pay back the favor, so I had him get me some. Though,” he said quietly, “it’s never quite as good as at home.”

McCoy thought for a moment.

“Len?”

“Hmm? Oh. You always call it home. Isn’t here home now?”

“Well- yes- but—”

“But you want to go back someday,” McCoy finished. His heart skipped in his chest and his shoulders grew heavy.

“I would like to,” Scotty whispered. “But I cannae can I? Not if I want Robbie safe.”

“I’m sorry darlin’. I wish I could do something to help.”

“You do love, you do.”

A few mornings later Jaylah came racing around the corner to the shade of the stables. She was out of breath, and collapsed in a heap next to McCoy.

“What is it?” McCoy cried, looking at her worried and already reaching to take her pulse.

Jaylah looked up and opened her hand. It was dripping for some reason, and in the center of her palm sat something, gleaming pale yellow.

Around her everyone looked on in surprise.

“Where…!?” Jim exclaimed.

“The creek… I… I was walking…” Jaylah panted out.

“Catch your breath first,” McCoy insisted.

Jaylah took a few deep breaths and Chekov brought her some water.

“I was walking along the creek, past the big tree the doctor likes to sit at with Montgomery Scotty—”

McCoy felt his face warm at that and saw Scotty’s cheeks color as well. Jim raised a cocky eyebrow at him.

“—and I saw it in the water. Is it really what I think?” she demanded.

Spock took the rock from her hand and looked it over closely.

“As far as I can tell, yes. It is gold.” He handed it to Jim.

“Christine isn’t going to like this,” Jim said with a laugh.

“What do we do?” Chekov asked.

“See if there’s more lad!” Scotty said eagerly.

Jim sighed, and McCoy looked over.

“What is it kid?” he asked.

“As much as it would be good for the ranch,” Jim said slowly, “it would change things too. It definitely warrants a better look, but I think it’s a decision for all of us to make. We all live here.” He stood up. “But for now, come on, let’s go look. We can decide after we see if there’s gonna be more.”

Jaylah took another drink and then began to lead the way to where she had found the gold.

“So that’s it,” Jim finished at dinner. He had filled everyone in on Jaylah’s find. “We seem to have two options. Prospect and search for more, mine if we do, or we can ignore it and simply enjoy it as a bonus if we find some from time to time.” He looked at each person around the table. “There are ten of us now, so I hope we don’t end up in a tie.” He grinned.

“We’ve all ended up here for a reason, which is beyond me to know why,” Scotty said slowly. “And we’ll always be open to others like us wanting to join us, but to just let anyone around, especially ones who just want to make it rich, that isn’t appealing to me.”

“I like the quiet way we have now,” McCoy agreed.

“Me too,” Christine agreed and reached over to squeeze McCoy’s hand.

“I do not like to be around lots of people,” Jaylah said softly.

“Riches would be nice,” Chekov said, “but not if it disrupts what we already have.”

“I agree with Pavel,” Sulu said, smiling across the table.

“It could add income to the ranch,” Uhura said, “but it would come with a price I don’t think we want to pay.”

“Uhura makes a good point about added income. And if Herndorff finds enough to begin a mining operation, things may become more expensive. More income would not be a bad thing. However, I agree that what we have now is worth more than a few nuggets of gold.”

“Why Spock—” McCoy began, grin curling his mouth upward.

“No changes,” Keenser cut him off.

Jim smiled at the head of the table. “That seems settled then.”

“What do we do with this piece?” Jaylah asked, pointing at the nugget on the table in front of her.

“It’s yours,” Jim gave her a slightly puzzled look. “You found it. Sell it, keep it, whatever you want. And that goes for everyone. If you find any, you choose what you want to do.”

“Thank you James T, but you take it for the ranch,” Jaylah said. “For all you have done for me that I can’t repay.” She picked up the rock and held it across in front of Chekov, up towards Jim.

“Jaylah— no,” Jim began.

“Yes,” Jaylah said firmly, standing up and moving towards Jim. She put the nugget in his hand. Jim looked helplessly down the table.

“Ahh, take it kid,” McCoy said. He gave Jim a look, and Jim gave a tiny nod.

“Ok,” Jim said to Jaylah, “But just this once.”

[ghostismybbygorl]

My sweet boy

Soap x ghost

Summary: soap takes ghost to meet his mom for the first time

Warnings: thick scottish writing, embarrassing baby photos, not proofread

"oh Mah bairn! How urr ye daein' ?!"

"Hey ma im doin well"

Johnny decided to give his mother a call to tell her the news

"Hae ye bin eating, did ye fin' a lover yit, whit's thair name, dae ye aye hae that ridiculous skin heid, och mah sweet laddie whin urr ye comin' hame we lassy you!"

"Maa!" Johnny said blushing over the phone

"Ive been fine, yes i have been eating, and yes i did find someone thats why i called you"

"Och guid! a'm sae happy youre in loue whit's thair name!? "

"His name is simon." He said nervously

Ever since johnny came out as bisexual he was always nervous about how his mom reacted to bringing home a man in his life. She was very traditional and wasn't very accepting of it but, she couldn't push her son away he was her pride and joy. She immediately warmed up to the fact that hey if her son is happy shes happy no matter what he does.

She ghasped

"A laddie! och mah loue howfur is he? does he treat ye weel? whin ur we meetin him? yer sisters lassy ye!"

"Ma!" He laughed "that why i called, simon and i have been stationed here for a few weeks and i thought it was time for you to meet him"

"Och joy mah loue! please hae him come ower fur tea ah wid loue tae catch up wi` him. Noo whit does he lik' 'n' whit doesn't he lik', is he allergic tae anythin' that a'm needin' tae ken aboot? "

"He'll eat just about anything. He's not a picky eater like me" he replied

"Thats guid peely-wally mak' a roast! ah cannae hauld yer horses tae see ye johnny! "

"Thats great ma! Hey i have to go the captains calling"

"I love you son! Forever and always"

"Love you too ma!"

Johnny hung up and walked to the debriefing room where price was going over the plans for the next mission. Once he dismissed everyone simon came over to him

"You ready to meet my family?" Johnny asked

Simon nodded "yeah im ready"

Jihnny gave him a peck over his clothed face

"Be ready by 3 and wear something nice no hoodies gitta make a good impression"

Simon rolled his eyes "roger"

Johnny was fidgeting like crazy running his hands through his hair staring at his outfit in the reflection worring about how he looked. He was wearing his kilt with a sweater over it. He liked to wear it around his family when he's visiting since it was such a special occasion to visit. He sighed fixing his hair trying to slick down his Mohawk from any fly aways. He didnt realize that simon had walked up behind him wrapping his arms around his waist

"You look great" he said kissing his cheek

Simon was wearing a black sweater with jeans and his docs. He wasnt wearing his mask revealing his scarred face.

"You ready love" simon asked

"Yeah i am" johhny replied getting into the car

The ride was quiet both boys where nervous. Simon worrying about his impression, johnny worrying about his family liking his new boyfriend.

Johnny drove down the driveway of his childhood home. His family had a cozy house with a large plot of land that had cows, chickens, and a few horses roaming around

"Looks like you where raised on a farm" simon quipped

"Oh Gang bile yer heid"

Simon chuckled grabbing soaps hand

"Everything's going to be alright don't worry" he said kissing his hand "love you"

Johnny parked the car letting out a sigh

"You ready?" He asked

"I am" simon replied giving him a kiss

As soon as johnny got out if the car he was tackled by his sister

"YOU STUPID PERSON WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME YOU HAD A BOYFRIEND" she yelled in his chest

"Good to see you too grace" he said returning the hug

Grace looked over at simon. He awkwardly waved at her "hello" he walked over and was immediately pulled into a hug. Simon awkwardly hugged her back

“So you must be the famous Simon!” she said smiling “welcome home! C’mon in the rest of the family is waiting”

Simon and johnny walked into the house where they where greeted with a Australian shepherd. Her little nub of a tail wagon a million miles an hour She jumped onto Simon barking at him and licking his hands.

“LACEY GET DOWN!” johnny's mother walked into the room holding a toddler on her side. She had the same exact features as johnny bright blue eyes long curly black hair down to her waist.

“I'm so sorry Simon she gets too excited when she meets new people” she set down the toddler on the floor where he ran straight to johnny

“uncleJohn!” he yelled waddling over to him

“Hey fergus!” Johnny scooped him up and gave him raspberry on his cheek. “Wheres your mommy?” fergus pointed to a pregnant woman waddling over from the kitchen

“Johnny you're here!” she said giving a kiss on his forehead and grabbing fergus. “Hows my baby brother doing?” she looked over to Simon and smirked “and how's the new family member doing?”

Simon blushed ruffling the back of his hair emmiting a shy “good”

She stuck out her hand “ olivia, nice to meat you” Simon shook her hand “and I'm Ferguth” the toddler said reach his hand out

“Hello fergus” Simon said shaking his hand

“Wheres pa?” johnny asked looking around the living room

“You know exactly where he is” olivia said pointing to the love seat in the corner where a man with a pot belly slept he had a baseball cap covering his face while his long brown hair stuck out every which way he had a long beard which settled down to his chest.

Johnny walked over giving his thickest Scottish accent Simon had ever heard

“Weel if it isnae th' pie-eater his-sel captain angus mactavish” he slapped his stomach waking him up from his slumber

“Ye wee wanker ah wis juist haein a guid dream” he said holding up his fists “Git yer bahookie ower 'ere ye wee jobby ah cannae hae mah son beat me noo”

Johnny and his dad fake fought causing Fergus to run over to them and fake fight with them. Angus wailed in fake pain as his grandchild hit him

“Oh me chest the wee lad got a punch to em, gonna be strong like year uncle aren't ye” he said grabbing Fergus and tickling him causing a fit of giggles. Simon smiled at the sight of Johnny's family he was reminded of his late family having fun like this (aside from kicking out his father from his family). He missed the atmosphere of what he had back then.

Fergus got out of his grandfathers lap and ran to simon "uncle john is tis your boyfwend!?" Pointing at him "it is" he replied

Fergus held his hands up wanting Simon to pick him up "uppies!"

"Oh you want uppies yeah?" Simon grabbed him settling him on his hip. Fergus pointed at his scars "you got a boo boo!" He pointed out

"Fergus!" Johnnys mom scolded him "im sorry simon this little bugger still learning his manners"

"Its alright mrs.mactavish my nephew did the same thing"

"Oh please call me liz! Mrs. mactavish is my mother in law!" Angus let out a loud laugh

"Kin that wench rest in peace" he said sighing the cross

Fergus touched simons scar on his lip

"how did you get the boo boo?" He asked

"Well i fought some bad guys like your uncle and had a bad accident causing to get boo boos on my face" Fergus gasped "did the bad guys go bye bye?"

"Yeah they did gave em a good wave goodbye"

Fergus smiled "i can make the boo boo feel better ma always does dis when i get one" fergus kissed his hand and put it on simons lip "bye bye boo boo!"

"Well look at that its all better" simon smiled he set fergus down where he ran to liz

"G-ma i made uncle simons boo boo feel better" he smiled

“You did! Well look at you ferg gonna be a good doctor one day!” she ruffled his hair causing him to giggle.

Angus got up from his seat with a groan

"Right lets see this fine man my sons datin'" angus walked over to Simon assessing his features. He put a hand on his shoulder

"Promise to take care of me boy?" He asked

Simon nodded "already do, should see em on the field definitely wouldnt make it without me"

"Oi!" Johnny chimed in "not true at all"

Angus gave another belly laugh

"i like em you should keep em john!"

Johnny rolled his eyes

A tall man walked over and put his arm around olivia “nice to meet you Simon I'm matt” he shook his hand

“Nice to meet you” Simon replied

There was a ding that came to the kitched lizs face lit up.

"Oh! The roasts ready! Everyone grab a plate!"

The whole family gathered into the kitchen

"Wait g-ma! we gotta do grace!" Fergus yelled

"Oh thats right! Simon do you want to do grace?"

Simon awkwardly stood by johnny

"I uhm"

"Ma hes not... you know"

"Oh! Its alright simon we dont have to do it" liz looked at fergus "we can do grace in our heads tonight"

Fergus looked confused but agreeds

Everyone sat the table fergus sat next to simon om his right and johnny to the left of him, angus sat at the head of the table along with matt on the other side. Olivia sat next to him, liz was in the middle, and grace was next to her father.

"So anything new since i left?" Johnny said shoving food in his mouth.

"Johnathan scott wheres your manners!" Liz said smacking his hand across the table. Johnny face turned red and swallowed his food.

"Honestly he eats like he's been starved. Oh angus remember when he ate so fast he got the hiccups for the first time" liz sighed with a dreamy look

"oh when he was a wee lad he used to run around the house nude" angus chimed in

"Or when he got a crayon stuck in his nose" olivia chuckled

"Oi it was a triple dog dare you cant break those!" Johnny huffed. His face was as red as a tomato. Simon let out a chuckle.

"He still runs around in the nude" simon chimed in

Johnny hid his face from his family blushing scarlet now. His family laughing at the embarrassing stories they had of him

When dinner was done liz gasped

"I have something to show you simon!"

She jogged upstairs and came down holding a large book

"LITTLE JOHNNYS BABY PHOTOS!" She whispered excitedly she sat on the couch patting for him to sit next to her

Simon smiled sitting and looking at the photos

Johnny was cleaning up the dishes when he heard chuckling in the living room

"Oi what the-" johnny stopped in his tracks face turning more red than before "ma! Are those my baby photos?!"

Olivia and grace snickered

"Wait till he sees the nude photos" they said to each other laughing

Simon looked at the photos grinning johnny was a cute baby. He turned the pages and saw him in the bathtub full of soap

"Oh that was his first bubble bath" liz cooed "he used to love em!"

"He still does "simon replied causing liz to chuckled

"Aww olivia look it was when we took our first Christmas photo with johnny"

"Ohh and look that was olivia first meeting johnny whats a great memory"

"Oh look at that! His first football game!" Olivia pointed out

"Looks like the mowhawk was his style" simon chimed in

"Oh yes the wee lad decided to give himself a little haircut"

She pointed to a photo of him with a bandaid on his chin

"Thats where he got that scar of his! Olivia and him wouldn't stop fighting had to tie em to a chair to get them to get along."

"That ones cute" simon pointed to him holding a baby

"Oh that was the first day we brought home grace he was head over heels for her he vowed to protect her and fight off her boyfriends"

"And i still do!" Johnny chimed in sitting next to simon locking his hands together with his

"Remember this one!" Olivia pointed to johnny in a bathrobe giving a glare "he was so mad because i ised up all the hot water" she laughed "fuckin pissed me off" johnny replied

Liz flipped the page and laughed at the photo of him sleeping on the floor "oh wee lad loved sleeping in different places look at this one he fell alseep on the counter after a football game"

Simon chuckled and pulled out his phone showing a photo of soap sleeping on their couch. Liz and Olivia let out a loud laugh "oh he never changes" Olivia said slapping his shoulder

Simon held the book now looking through the pages until he stopped at a photo of him being the goalie and right next to the photo was him and olivia on his back

"Oh thats when our schools team won the finals! For both the boys and girls team!" Olivia pointed "johnny was such a good goalie he could have been pro if he didn't enlist in the royal marines"

"Yeah i would but i wouldnt have met simon" he squeeze simons hand simon set his head on his shoulder closing the picture book

"Thank you for the photos i really enjoyed them" simon handed the book to liz she patted his back "love its always a pleasure to embarrass my son!" She laughed setting the book on the coffee table.

The whole family decided to play a couple of games until it was time for simon and johnny to go back to the base. Johnny said goodbye to his mother giving her a kiss on the cheek and giving his dad a bear hug. He hugged both of his siters and gave blew his nephew a raspberry on his cheek. Simon shook angus' hand then he was pulled into a giant hug from him

"you take care of our son you hear?" He let go of simon with johnnys mom giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek

"The door is always open for the two of you!" She said waving goodbye to them as they walked back to the car.

Simon sat in the passenger seat while johnny drive

"So that was my family" he said

He looked over to see simon sulking

Johnny grabbed his hand giving it a kiss

Simon looked at him

"they remind me if my family"

"I know they do babe, but id have ti say they absolutely adore you and my family is your family"

Simon smiled "i love you"

"Love you too bonnie" johnny replied giving simons hand another kiss

[hummingbird-of-light]

Against All Odds

Part 669

McCoy

“Robbie?”

Chekov was pointing at the empty chair across the table and looking at Scotty. McCoy heard the curiosity in the word. Scotty quickly glanced at McCoy. He gave a small shrug in answer.

“He’ll be gone for the weekend,” Scotty finally said. “The trial was hard on him.”

McCoy could see Jim about to ask where, so he raised the slightest eyebrow at Spock, who quickly touched Jim’s arm. Jim’s hard turned sharply to Spock. He gave a nod then turned back to his plate.

“‘Bout time they dealt with him,” Jim said vehemently, and they all knew he meant Khan. Silence fell.

“So,” Jim said brightly after a few quiet moments, “any new adventures to report?” He waggled his eyebrows at McCoy and Scotty.

“What are ye talking about lad?” Scotty asked.

“You know,” Jim said slyly, “behind closed doors?” He winked at McCoy.

McCoy rolled his eyes with a groan and saw Scotty’s face reddening.

“Jim!” Sulu said in surprise next to Jim.

“I mean, what were you up to in the first place? That was a big bruise. What was that? A knee?” Jim continued. “In some new position I haven’t heard of?”

Scotty’s face only got redder and McCoy felt his own heating.

“Jim!” Spock said sternly.

Jim turned an innocent look to the Vulcan. “What?” he shrugged. “You never know, we may learn something for ourselves! Could be fun!” He wiggled his eyebrows again, this time at Spock.

Spock’s face colored. Up the table McCoy saw Chekov muttering towards his plate, his face coloring as well.

“Maybe they’ve got some moves!” Jim continued, looking around at all of them.

“Jim.”

Everyone turned to see Keenser staring at the blond boy. Jim’s face began to color from the intense black eyed stare the Roylan gave him.

“Ok, ok. Sorry. Too far,” Jim held up his hands.

“I cannae believe the lad!” Scotty said to McCoy as they entered their room that evening. They’d spent some time in the lounge with their friends, but curfew was closing in.

“Well, I mean, you started it,” McCoy said jokingly as he closed the door behind them.

“What?” Scotty asked in surprise, turning to face McCoy.

“You could have come up with a less embarrassing story…” McCoy shrugged, hiding a grin, as he began to pull his clothes off to prepare for bed.

“Or,” he said, moving back to Scotty, “we could make that embarrassing story true.” He pulled his fiancé close.

“Len—!”

Scotty didn’t get any further as McCoy crushed their mouths together. His hands slipped under Scotty’s shirt. The Scotsman’s skin was warm and McCoy pulled him tighter. Turning them, McCoy backed Scotty towards their bed.

“Ye’re a mad man,” Scotty panted out as the back of his knees hit the bed and he sat heavily.

“I’m your mad man,” McCoy said, going to his knees in front of Scotty and pulling at his shirt. Scotty lifted his arms to help and McCoy tossed the shirt aside as he pushed back in to catch Scotty’s mouth again.

Soon enough they were both laid out on the bed and McCoy was fumbling to undo their pants.

“Love you,” he breathed, before pressing more hot kisses to Scotty’s mouth.

The library was quiet as McCoy waited for Scotty to finish at band practice. His biochem homework sat untouched in front of him as he stared blankly into space, thoughts drifting back to the evening before.

A slow smile spread on his face, remembering how pleased Scotty had looked, how he had clung tightly to McCoy. He could nearly still feel Scotty’s hands grasping at him. McCoy sighed, satisfaction still filling his being.

A pile of books dropped onto the table next to him, startling him from his thoughts. He looked up, expecting to see Christine or maybe Jaylah. She would drop books like that to surprise him. Any of their friends would be welcome.

McCoy’s eyes met green ones looking smugly down at him.

He recoiled back in his chair and he scowled at Jocelyn.

“Hello Len,” she said in an overly sweet voice.

“I told you, you may not call me that.” The words growled out of him. He reached for his own books and PADD, collecting them in a pile. “Why are you doing this? he demanded. “Leave me alone!”

She laughed lightly, but her eyes were hard at him.

“You ruined everything,” she whispered at him.

McCoy’s eyes widened in surprise. He pushed back from the table and stood, collecting his things.

“You’re crazy,” he snapped at her. “Stay away from me.”

“All this just because of one kiss Len?”

McCoy clamped his mouth tight together. He wanted to yell at her; so many things were ready on the tip of his tongue.

“Stay away from me,” he repeated and stormed from the library.

In their room he felt safe. He dropped his books on his desk and sat heavily in the chair. His head fell into his hands and the desire to scream washed over him. McCoy couldn’t wait for Scotty to return. Scotty would calm the rage inside him.

Part 670

Scotty

After the last night they had spent together, Scotty wanted nothing more than to get back to his fiancé. The rehearsal seemed interminable, but he knew he had to be present. After all, the boarding school's anniversary was coming up soon and a big celebration was planned.

So the Scotsman tried to focus on the music as best he could. Fortunately, they were all pieces he knew by heart.

When the band was finished, he hurried to the library. Leonard and he had agreed to meet there. They were going to finish some homework and then quickly go to their room.

Scotty was surprised to find the library empty. Well... not completely empty. A few other lasses and lads were sitting at the desks, but there was no sign of Leonard.

Puzzled, Scotty made his way to their room. Had Leonard perhaps finished everything earlier and gone ahead?

"Len-"

His eyes widened in shock as he found his fiancé at the desk, his face buried in his hands. He seemed to be devastated.

"Mo ghràdh!"

Concern washed over Scotty. He quickly closed the door and hurried over to the prince to wrap his arms around him.

"What's wrong?"

What had happened? Was there something wrong with Leah? Or Robbie? A thousand fears flashed through Scotty's mind, and when Leonard finally looked up, all he saw was disgust in the latter's gaze.

Immediately he realized who was responsible for Leonard's state of mind. His expression darkened.

"Jocelyn?" he asked, and Leonard just nodded.

Scotty groaned as he dropped into the vacant chair next to his fiancé. What had that witch done now?

"A new article?"

Leonard shook his head, running a hand through his hair. His voice sounded hoarse as he began to speak.

"She... came up to me in the library, talking something about how I ruined everything."

Anger boiled up inside Scotty when he heard those words. What was Jocelyn thinking!

"'All this just because of one kiss' - that's what she said. As if... it was nothing."

Jocelyn was really a horrible person! She harassed Leonard and kissed him against his will, she made up stories to make the prince look bad, turned Pete and the others against him, and now she blamed him for everything.

And Leonard almost seemed to believe it. Scotty could see it in the look on his face.

"That's enough! I'll tell that bitch to stay the hell away from ye!"

Furious, Scotty jumped to his feet and stomped toward the door.

"Scotty-"

He could just hear Leonard trying to hold him back, but he could no longer control himself. He would find Jocelyn and give her a clear talking to.

The girl was in the lounge, along with Pete and other students who were still on her side.

"Jocelyn! I want to talk to ye. Now!"

Scotty didn't even try to keep the anger out of his voice. He wanted Jocelyn to know how upset he was.

Her eyes slid to Scotty and when Pete stepped in front of her protectively, she just gently touched his arm and shook her head. Smiling, she walked past him, toward Scotty.

"But of course, Scotty."

The Scotsman took one last look at the other students before following Jocelyn, who was already leaving the room.

They came to a halt in a small side corridor and Scotty couldn't help but glare angrily at his counterpart.

"What can I do for you?"

God! It disgusted Scotty how calm and polite Jocelyn was. Like she hadn't done anything!

"Ye know exactly what I want," he growled, but Jocelyn just smiled.

"Enlighten me."

Good... she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Stay away from Leonard. Stop blaming him for things that are yer fault!"

The smile didn't fade from Jocelyn's lips as she placed a hand on Scotty's arm.

"Oh, Scotty... You have no idea what I'm capable of."

She leaned forward and whispered the next words into the Scotsman's ears.

"I'm going to make Len's life a living hell. And yours right along with it if you don't back off. And there's not a thing you can do about it. Or do you want me to tell everyone you threatened me?"

With that, Jocelyn stepped past Scotty, slowly strolling back to the lounge.

"Thanks for the nice talk. Say hi to Lenny for me."

With a wave, she disappeared around the corner into the next corridor, leaving behind a helpless, still angry Scotty.

[grumpygreenwitch]

The Fairy and the Prince #38 + #39 + #40 + #41

Part 1 - Part 2 - Parts 3 & 4 - Part 5 - Part 6, 7 & 8 - Part 9 & 10 - Part 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 & 16 - Part 17, 18, & 19 - Part 20, 21 & 22 - Part 23, 24, 25 & 26 - Part 27, 28, 29 & 30 - Part 31, 32, 33 & 34 - Part 35, 36 & 37 - Part 38, 39, 40 & 41 - Part 42 & 43 - Part 44 & 45 - Part 46 & 47 - Part 48, 49, 50 & 51 - Part, 52, 53 & 54 - Part 55 & 56 - Part 57, 58, 59 & 60 - Part 61, 62, 63, 64 & 65 - Part 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71 & 72

Happy Solstice! The good thing about posting all this stuff in advance is that holidays don’t stop the posts. So here you go, a bit of sweetness before things go as pear-shaped as they’re gonna get.

As autumn sank its grip into the land, Adam abandoned the canvas in favor of paper and charcoal, and began to sketch. He quickly became aware of the disconnect Linden had pointed out, wondering how he could have possibly missed such an obvious thing before. Unable to practice on anyone but his friends, he focused on other studies, much to the despair of his art teachers.

On a blustery, dark night, tapping at one of his windows snapped him awake, heart hammering in alarm he couldn't yet understand. "Needlemaw!"

The redcap slithered into the room and turned to help Linden in before facing Adam. "I didnae want to go without telling ye," she began without any warning. "There's war."

"War!" Adam felt all warmth drain from him.

"Among the Underfolk, my people, Boul's people, the smaller sorts beneath the Court," she hurried to clarify, and her heart both ached and soared to see his stricken look ease not one bit. "'Tis not uncommon, Adam. We chafe at each other’s edges, and the Queen doesnae help, she's never bothered. Since she don't care, none of them do, this is how we solve such things."

"Will you be alright?!" he demanded. "Will Boul? Can I help? What if you're hurt?"

"I dinnae ken about Boul, but I think he might be too young to fight. And me, I'll be hurt, I'm sure of it," she admitted casually. At his look she added, "there's pointy bits to every side of me, Adam. Did ye think my enemies were naught like me?"

"No, but..." He chewed on his lower lip. "But it's you I know," he said at last, as usual striking to the core of the matter in a way the fairy-maid could, and did, understand.

"Och." She hugged him tightly.

"What about Linden?" Adam turned to face their friend. "Can you help?"

"I would," Linden looked wounded and angry. "They won't let me, not Boul, not Needle."

"What!"

"Linden cannae be seen to be choosing sides within the Court, Adam."

"Oh, always with the stupid Court! Why can't it just be gone, everything I hear makes me think everyone's life would be better if they were gone. Back to wherever they came from, to pester their like there."

"Yui're not saying new things, Adam," Needlemaw said wryly. "Yui're just saying them louder than most."

He growled, and then lunged at her and crushed her in a hug that startled the redcap with its strength. "You come back. Can I ask that? You come back to us."

"Needle, please." Linden's arms wrapped around them like the strong branches of a tree. "Please promise you'll come back. That's all I want."

The redcap had never known safety as she felt in that moment, in that embrace. "I cannae promise I'll come back," she admitted. "But I promise I will try. I will try with all that I am."

Something sounded, far away in the woods, and it was impossible to tell if it was a wolf's howl, or a stag's bugling call, or a hunting horn. She slipped away from them like sand running through their fingers, and was gone as abruptly as she'd come.

Linden and Adam closed the window and curled up before the fire, lost and clinging to one another, feeling like children bereft in the dark.

It didn't get any better. As the last harvest festival was planned and prepared, Linden came into the woods one morning to warn Adam that Boul had been decreed old enough to fight. He wasn't even given a chance to say goodbye.

There was no one they could ask for news. Adam brought dry cherries and cracked barley for the finches and the sparrows, but there was only so much they could tell him; they weren't travelers, sticking close to nest and mate and flock. The swallows had left when the cold weather closed in. He brought bacon rinds out and spent a night under the jousting yard's stands, but the smallfolk there were shy, peaceful creatures. They pointed him out to the kelpie's old pond, and told him to bring salt and meat.

He snuck out on a bitterly cold night with a small bundle over his shoulder, and met Linden in the woods. They raced to the pond as they had once before, their hearts pounding, unsure of what they'd find. As they drew close they saw them at last, rainbow lights dipping and dancing and twisting over the breath-thin ice on the water's surface, and Linden recoiled. "Adam."

"Will they help?"

"Adam, we can't -"

"Linden, I don't care what they are. Will they help?"

"Maybe," Linden admitted. "But pixies are dangerous, Adam. They answer to no court, they answer to no one. They claim everything as their prey, even -"

As they watched, three lights suddenly converged against one. A thin, high shriek reached them from across the water. Blood spattered over the delicate ice, steaming for a brief moment. One of the lights went out.

" - each other," Linden finished.

Adam drew a deep, shaky breath. "I'm beginning to think it's only your people who are nice, Linden."

"We're mostly nice," Linden agreed, their voice gone breathy. "Do you still want to do this?"

"Do you?"

"Yes. I wither a little each day, not knowing."

Adam nodded and took down the bundle. He opened it, reached in, and threw a heavy piece from a steer's leg on the ground before them.

For a moment nothing happened. But as the scent of raw meat and blood spread on the cold night air, they saw a change come over the idle, lazy chaos of multicolored lights over the still, dark water. Like moved to like and they began to swirl faster and faster in tiny hurricanes.

Adam unwound his scarf, dropped his gloves in the middle of it, and twisted it around sharply, waiting. "Get ready."

The pixies came like a swarm of angry hornets. They didn't come for the meat; they arrowed at those who they feared might keep them from such a feast. Adam was done being polite; two of his friends were embroiled in a conflict that he didn't understand. From what little he knew, it was fighting that could have been avoided, if the Queen Beyond the Woods had bothered to even try.

He swung his makeshift weapon looking for no prisoners.

Two pixies went flying, one to crash into the water and disappearing at once, another to slam against the trunk of a nearby oak with a cry, stumbling down into the blanket of leaves beneath the tree, its golden light nearly gone. Two more, though clipped, managed to backwing away. One avoided the prince altogether, hissing like an airborne viper at him.

A smaller, green flock chose to ambush the survivors. Above, a small cloud of violet light swirled. Watching, Adam guessed. A stream of blue tried to use the foliage of the wild irises as cover to rush up on the two friends.

Linden cried out something Adam couldn't understand, and the blade-like leaves closed into an impenetrable wall. No lights came out.

Slowly, so slowly, a single violet light spiraled down. "We greet the Danu child. We greet the mortal prince." The pixie was not human; of all the fairies he'd met, Adam had yet to see one that was so distant from the mortal seeming. It was as if someone had taken clay and smoothed from it two legs and two arms, adding at least two extra joints to each limb but adding no actual body or further noticeable features. It was the size of Adam's forearm. Its wings were a dragonfly's, and its skin was an eel's, smooth and speckled, a deep violet that colored the light coming from it. Its voice was the low growl of a small, angry animal cornered in its den.

"I greet you in return," Adam replied. "And for your courtesy, I offer this gift to you and yours." He gestured to the piece of beef and pointedly backed away a step.

The pixie curled up in the air, twisting a leg around until it could scratch its face with the long, birdlike toes on it. There were no eyes to its face, no nose, no ears. Only a gash of a mouth where jagged teeth like broken glass flashed whenever it spoke. "Freely given?"

"For your courtesy," Adam repeated.

It twittered something and the violet flock crashed down onto the meat, snarling as they tore it apart. Adam let them eat, aware that the green flock, four lights in all, was still floating warily at a distance, and that a dim golden glow was barely visible under the blanket of the dead oak leaves.

Eventually, the same pixie (or so Adam hoped), left the others and fluttered up to Adam, though just out of arm's reach of both him and Linden. "You have more gifts, mortal prince. We can smell them."

"Ah, those are not gifts. Those are payment for favors done."

The flock rose at once. "What need have we to do favors for what is rightfully ours!" the pixie hissed.

"What need have I to offer payment for favors not done." Adam shrugged. "Winter comes. Prey goes to ground, to sleep the winter sleep, to hide under cover of snow and ice. Winter is a lean time for all predators, even the best ones."

"We do not answer to you, mortal prince. We do not answer even to the Danu child!"

"I would never ask that you heed me," Linden replied. "I know what rights you claim, and what you paid for them. They are yours in my woods, always."

The pixie, apparently bereft of the fight it had been expecting, hung silent in the air. "What favors?"

"News," Adam said quickly. "Information. There is a war -"

"It is not our concern."

"I do not ask that you make it your concern," Adam agreed. "I ask, yes or no, do you understand it, the reason for it? The ebb and flow of it?" He crouched down and from his bag pulled out a plucked duck.

"Duck," the pixie breathed. "Greasy, rich, dark, fed fat and lazy duck."

"Careful, pixie," Linden warned, and the trees all around them creaked in no wind. "We will not be lied to."

The violet light pulsed like a small heart. "No and no," it snarled.

Adam hung his head, and threw them the duck all the same. They scattered away from it. "We cannot give you what you ask," the pixie demanded.

"I did not ask you to," Adam told it. "I asked you two questions, and you answered them fairly. The payment's yours. Take it in good faith, but we have no more to say to one another."

They fell on the duck with enough zeal that a fight nearly broke among their numbers, tearing it apart and dashing away with the bits.

"What about you?" Linden called out to the flock of green hovering over the water. "Can you answer fair and honest?"

They didn't draw very close; they were the smallest of all the flocks, barely four in number. "What we want, the mortal prince does not have in his wee bag." The pixie's voice was a mournful loon's call. "What we want, the Danu child alone can give."

Adam looked at Linden in surprise. "It is autumn, nearly winter," Linden sounded just as surprised. "I've very little I can give at the best of times, less now. But ask, and I will give you an honest answer, if nothing else."

"We want a home."

"Traitors!" Voices within the wild irises hissed and snarled. "Cowards!"

"We are hungry! We are tired!" A single green light, parting from the flock, shouted back and moved to hover before Linden. "We know war, Danu-child. We know what brings it about. We fought our own for our freedom. But that freedom tastes stale and false when our children wither in their cocoons from hunger. Freedom has brought us nothing but death. Give us a place in your woods. Give us your law; we have watched you, every season of your life. We know you will be fair as the Queen Beyond the Woods will never be. We ask that you count us yours."

Linden stared helplessly at Adam, who could only shrug. "Do you trust me, pixie?" They stretched out a hand.

Light as a bird, the pixie alighted on their palm and crouched down. They were much tinier, their body no bigger than Linden's outstretched hand. "We do."

"I have no court. I only have my woods, my friends."

"Your woods and your friends are more potent a force than you can imagine, Danu child. We cannot go on as we are. Our light will be gone from the world and we will be forgotten, and I... do not want that for my flock."

Linden drew a deep breath. "Then I count you and your flock mine, pixie. And these are your first laws: you hunt to eat, not for sport. You do no war upon your kin unless they do war upon you. And if they do, they do war upon me."

The woods whispered, and Adam felt as if a hundred eyes were bearing witness to something profoundly momentous. Tiny, twittering, nervous sounds came from the wild irises.

Lightly, Linden kissed the smooth, narrow top of the pixie's head. "It is autumn, nearly winter. But I will find a safe, warm place for you and your flock. If I am warm, you will be warm; if I have food, you will have food. Now answer the mortal prince's question."

The pixie, crouched down on Linden's hand, turned to stare sightlessly at Adam. "Yes. And no."

Adam groaned, but he crouched down and brought out a string of sausages, the last wealth inside the sack.

The pixies squealed like rusty hinges. "Oh, long squish smoke guts!"

"Meatsy meat!"

"Crunchy grains and twiggy herby herbs!" They dove upon the string when Adam dropped it.

"Mortal prince," a thin voice of wind on dry reeds rasped out. "I have the answers you seek."

Linden stared all around in shock. Adam turned toward the oak, not entirely surprised. "Do you?"

"On my life I do," the last of the golden pixies declared, its voice full of pain. "Spare it, and I will give it to you. I have the answers to your questions, and if what I know does not satisfy you, then I will find those that will."

Adam balked. "I don't want to own anyone. I'm not like the Folk in the Woods."

"I don't care," the pixie snarled. "My life is all the coin I have. I cannot be of the woods, I am of the city. If you want your answers, I must live long enough to give them. And if you give me my life, I only have it to repay you."

Adam and Linden crossed a look. The night had gone nowhere they'd meant for it to go. "You know it's right, Adam. If we leave it like this, the moment I let the others loose they'll fall on it. That's their way," Linden said quietly.

"I know, I know, but it's not a thing, it's not an inkpot or a book or something to be owned." Adam pressed his hands to his face and made a high sound of profound impatience. "A task then," he exclaimed on a whim. "If I give you your life, you must find a way to give me mine. Truly and fairly."

"Truly and fairly." The pixie dug itself out from where it had hid, among the autumn-kissed leaves. "And then?"

"And then your life is your own. If you stay, you don't stay because you owe anyone, you stay because you choose to."

"And if you die before I can repay you?"

"Then you're free anyway."

"You make poor bargains, mortal prince."

"Maybe," Adam admitted, shrugging off his coat. "But that's only because I could make them unfair, and choose not to. Pixies." He showed the flock of green lights the heavy coat. "To warm you, until Linden can find something better. In exchange for one sausage."

"Is that satin?" one of the pixies cried out in delight.

"Are those buttons brass?"

"The stitching is gold!"

They all but threw the sausage at his feet. Adam dropped the coat and snatched the treat up, moving closer to the golden pixie and unwinding his scarf. "Can you move?"

It was the size and color of a young trout, golden and rainbow, pink and white and green, flecked with black and brown. Its wings were terribly crumpled and broken. "I have moved all that I could, mortal prince," it admitted wearily.

"Don't bite me," Adam warned. As carefully as he could he scooped the tiny fairy up and bundled it up in the scarf, giving it the sausage at last; it was heavier than Adam had expected, and clung to its sausage as possessively as a miser to a coin. "Oh, gods, now what do we do?"

"Well, you go back to the palace before you freeze blue," Linden told him tartly before gesturing at his coat, which was moving all on its own, full of admiring and delighted pixies. "But I have to tend to this. Pixie, the mortal prince's questions?"

The golden pixie shifted tiredly its featureless head, too exhausted and wounded to even eat. "Yes. And yes."

"Go," Linden told Adam. "Find out what you can, and tell me tomorrow."

Adam ran.

***

He named the pixie Trout, because it had no name Adam could pronounce. That night, it sat trembling on the prince's desk as Adam bathed its broken wings on willow-tea and stretched them out from the crumpled, broken heap they'd ended up in. "You don't look hurt anywhere else."

"I am not hurt anywhere else. I do not need to be. My wings are all I am."

Trout knew of war. Sitting there and instructing Adam on the brutal attention to its wings, it spoke on its whispering, papery voice. It was an old creature, though pixies were only a step above the kelpie: they counted 'yesterday', 'today' and 'tomorrow', but little else. It had seen war, and had fought in one where pixies had won, and demanded to be free of any Court, a wish which had been granted to them, and which had turned out to be more curse than blessing. But it couldn't tell Adam how long ago, or against who, or on whose side. Only that the palace had not been there when it had been fought, and the lights of its folk had outnumbered the stars in the sky.

"This is no war," it told Adam. "The Court is bored. There are almost no princes left to kill, not until the new crop is weaned. So they made it seem that the above-folk want something from the below-folk and the below-folk went killing the above-folk, and of course neither will abide the other doing that, and here we are."

"For fun." Adam had to stop to steady his hands. "They did this for fun. They started a war for fun."

Trout turned its empty face toward him. "You seem to be caring more about them than about you. I'm not certain those are sensible priorities, mortal prince."

"Call me Adam. Everyone here is a prince, but I'm still the only Adam." He went back to work. It had to be hurting, yanking and tugging on the pixie's wings, but other than grinding the jagged rows of its teeth, Trout did not react. "Do you know who's winning?"

"No one. Whenever one side gets an advantage, they go sneaky-sneaking in and fix it so it's all blood and chaos again."

Adam said nothing to that, because there was nothing he trusted himself to say. Instead he got up and very carefully poured the rest of the willow tea into his wash-basin, thinning it and cooling it with some water from the pitcher. "If you soak your wings in this, they should hurt you less."

Trout eyed him warily, and Adam added a kerchief next to the basin. "And wash your face, too, you have bits of sausage all over it."

"It was good sausage," Trout admitted wistfully.

"If you get better quickly, and can fly to take messages, I'll get you more sausages. And bacon."

"Bacon!"

"Don't fall asleep in the basin, Trout. I don't want to get bit fishing you out," Adam teased, weary to his bones and yet somehow glad to know at least one problem in his life could be solved with something so simple as bacon.

Trout huffed with offended dignity, and proceeded to do exactly that. But at least it remembered not to bite when Adam did fish it out and set it down on the pillow next to his own.

***

Winter came on full of bluster and bitterly cold. With pleasant entertainment, the Court didn't see a need to try and shorten the season, and all the misery they'd been holding back was left to catch up with the mortal world.

Adam got somewhat used to carrying a pixie in his pocket as Trout healed, and discovered perhaps the only good thing to come from the war: the Court would have no winter celebrations. It would not close its doors. Linden could stay in the woods. They didn't seem nearly as elated about those news as Adam was, at first, and the prince felt his delight wane into wariness. "Isn't that a good thing? Don't you want to stay?"

"Of course it's a good thing!" Linden was watching pixies come and go, filling old squirrel nests with pilfered wool to make nests no one would oust them from. Perched on Adam's shoulder, Trout watched as well. "Of course I want to stay. It's just. I mean.... Oh, butter and burrs!" They threw themselves down on the worn root of the linden tree and mumbled.

"What?"

"I said," Linden exclaimed with an exasperated sigh, "that my hair falls out in winter!"

Adam blinked, the concept of Linden concerned over something so alien as vanity impossible to understand. Then, quite mistakenly, he thought he'd got it. "Oh, so you'll need a hat, then! You don't have any."

Linden peeked at him. "I suppose," they replied, sitting up with ill-grace and staring closely at Adam. "You won't think me a silly sight, bare like a tree in winter?"

"Linden, I never think you silly. Reckless and obstinate, but we're matched on that." Adam brightened up. "You'll be here for my birthday! And for the Longest Night! Now I know what to get you for a present." Linden suddenly hugged him, nearly sending Trout tumbling. "They've called you silly for it, haven't they?"

"Yes."

"Well, when has their opinion ever mattered to us?"

Bereft of half their family and forced to wait for Trout to heal before they could do anything about it, they focused instead on younger, simpler times, roaming through all the old familiar places, bringing up rich and merry memories of childhood, unwilling to think of the future and refusing to give the bleak present the pleasure of ruining their time together, taking refuge in the past instead. Linden did lose all their white, gold-tipped hair at about the same time the linden tree lost the last of its leaves, revealing a fine spattering of green freckles on the bark-brown, smooth skin; they promptly hid them beneath a satin-lined woolen cap, and then under any number of caps and hats acquired for them not just by Adam, but by Dane and Beli and Culli.

Without that tempting crown of foliage they discovered the horses were no longer inclined to try to chew on Linden, and suddenly riding was not only possible, but enjoyable.

Sometimes the black dog haunted their wake. Sometimes the black stag shadowed them through the woods.

"Perhaps I should have you teach me archery," Linden commented tartly one of those times, and they saw their everpresent shadow no more, even if the pressure of his presence didn't ease.

In the winter-sere woods, Adam learned to draw Linden at last; the true Linden, the long-limbed creature as graceful as a willow, as sweet as a linden, as powerful as an oak. He learned the true shape of those graceful hands that would gently lift a pixie up to catch a breeze, the sharp bark talons that could snatch and rend the life out of a rabbit so they could have dinner over a small fire. He groused endlessly about the smaller things, far more precious, Linden's laugh, the way the shattered eyes shifted through every color with their moods, the way they curled up among the linden tree roots, stuffed in a whole bunch of coats and cloaks and scarves, having merry conversations with the birds that didn't leave the woods through winter.

He let his eyes lead his fingers as the charcoal stick raced over paper, instead of the other way around. He drew anything and everything, Trout as the pixie peeked warily out of a pocket to speak to the green pixies, always seemingly surprised to be treated with courtesy by them. He drew the woods and added details from memory. He sketched his absent friends and those who waited for him in the palace, Dane and Beli and the Culli-maid, left to his service once Arditty had wed and departed to her own domain.

He would never, he realized one day in profound chagrin, be an artist. Oddly, it didn't hurt him as it had before. This time he'd tried, he really had. He'd found the flaw in himself and corrected it. He could expect no more of himself.

It was also the day, two weeks before the Longest Night festivities, that he realized there were only two princes older than him in the palace. Everyone else was now younger. When had that happened?

Linden, who'd been sitting in the sun, head upturned and eyes closed, basking in the silver, pale light for it brightness rather than its warmth, looked at Adam as he froze in realization. "Are you finished, then?"

Adam looked at the drawing, and felt something inside him hurt in the best possible way. How could it not be love? "I suppose. I'm not very good at it, but it's as done as it's going to get." He felt heat spilling over his face but made no effort to hide the workbook as Linden moved to their feet and approached eagerly.

"Well, let me see." They stared curiously at the drawing. No oil or paint or canvas, only charcoal in fine, measured lines, with precision and care. "Is this what you see," they asked, their voice gone still. "Is this what you see when you look at me?"

"Yes," Adam admitted readily, his heart beating like a warring sparrow's wings. "The most beautiful creature in the world."

Linden's breath caught with a sharp little sound, and they turned to stare at Adam, who stared right back, almost defiantly. The many-colored eyes bloomed into spring and went to a riot of summer right there in that empty winter clearing, and so slowly, so gently, Linden leaned down and kissed their young, oblivious mortal of a prince for a long, long moment. When they parted away Adam gasped briefly, tasting linden flowers and honey on his lips.

"Adam, what do these people teach you, that it's taken you this long?" Linden teased.

"Nothing useful," he admitted, his voice hoarse.

"I've bound my life to a blind idiot," Trout commented dryly from its pocket, and Linden laughed, and for a moment it was summer, sweet and golden, in the shadow of the linden tree.

***

Adam couldn't keep it to himself, least of all from those who'd known him nearly as long as Linden. Dane took a look at him when he came back that night, dazed with realization, and shook his head, smiling faintly. Beli gave him a narrow-eyed look, and merely warned him very tartly, "Well, this better no interfere with your studies."

Culli merely smiled. After dinner, as she examined his mending, which was never too onerous a task, with Beli and Dane arguing quietly about something to do with the temperature in the rooms and the outrageous price of ink, she gestured him close. Adam stood before her like an errant schoolboy. "Well," she told him. "It's been a bit long coming, hasn't it."

Adam sagged and blew a long breath. "Am I the only one who didn't know?"

"Well, it's not that we knew," she corrected him. "It's just that there had to be a reason for such as Linden and such as you to come together."

"We were friends! We've always been friends."

"Aye, Highness, that's the very point. I'm not saying they loved you from the first. But they did want to be your friend from the first. Their heart was freely given on nothing but what they saw and weighted on a wee lad. How many do you know of their kind that do that sort of thing?"

Adam licked his lips. "Only the ones they've brought. Only our friends."

Culli nodded, and then shook her head in wonderment. "It's hard to know you and not love you, Highness," she told him, and laughed a little when he flushed red to his ears. "Well, go on now. Whatever Beli and Master Leminy might have to say about your lessons, you have to make up for lost time now, don't you? Will you be inviting them to the Longest Night ball?"

Adam chewed on his lip. "I want to, Culli. I want to so much. But it seems so dangerous. The Dowager's so blind in her hatred. I think I need to speak to them about it."

"About it and about many other things." She gave him a pointed look.

Adam scurried into his bedroom as fast as he could.

The thing was, they didn't want to talk about the future, because to discuss a future without including Boul or Needlemaw in the conversation seemed too much like tempting fate to snatch them away in the present. Trout's wings were sloughing off like skin from a sunburn, and the pixie was even more impatient than Adam to be airborne, often clinging to the ears of the prince's charger as the horse raced over the meadows just so it could feel the bite of the wind, as if afraid it would forget what it felt like. Until the pixie could fly they couldn't send word to either of their friends about the Court's treachery, couldn't know if sending word would even do any good.

In the end, Linden decided against the ball. Much as they wanted to see the glitter and beauty that Adam described, much as they hoped that in its own way it would be better than the wondrous galas of the Folk Beyond The Woods, they knew the Dowager Queen for another deadly enemy, and the party for another trap wrapped in satin, gossamer and jewels.

Adam had never really attended the ball beyond showing up, dipping his head politely at the Dowager and making a round of whatever adults had been invited; nothing else was expected of him. It took longer that year because he was repeatedly stopped to hear commentary about how tall he was getting, how broad across the shoulders, how fair on the face. In the end he had to practically sneak into the kitchen, snatching snacks as he went and shoving a crispy meat pastie into the pocket of the elegant, severe blue frock coat he was wearing as a Prince of the Blood. Trout's appreciative trill nearly broke glass.

He dashed away into the woods with a satchel full of gifts, and dropped it in shock when he came to the clearing.

Lights hung everywhere, delicate floating bubbles of color. A few were Linden's pixies; the rest they'd conjured to dispel the shadows of the longest night upon the world, and the clearing basked in delicate, multicolored light that made the ice flash like precious jewels.

He gave them their gift, a wheel of cheese cut into fourths and a whole cured ham hock cut into thin slices, and watched them dance in delight, grinning. Until the sight of Linden took his breath away.

Before they'd decided against attending the ball, Linden and Adam had discussed the matter of attire with some trepidation. Apparently in the Court they were given no choice as to what to wear; it was provided for them and that was that. Adam had no such concerns, and was quietly and deeply incensed at the casual cruelty of such a simple thing as taking choice away from someone you wanted to impress. He explained in great detail the cut and fit of his own outfit, and with some difficulty the more complex and colorful gowns of the ladies of the court, to which he'd never paid a great deal of attention. It was just as well they'd decided against the ball, and both of them blew secret breaths of relief at it.

But that night Linden had chosen an attire for the only person in the world for whom it mattered. They were a fey thing indeed, as luminous as the pixies. The green freckles on their skin gleamed in the dark. Their shattered eyes glowed like sacred lights. Exactly a replica to Adam's clothing to every stitch, they wore a fine white shirt and a rich cravat under a frock coat of every shade of green, every tree stitched in brown with painstaking precision. Their pants were the soft, dark brown of rich earth, dotted with stitched shapes of birds, of mice and squirrels and deer, of wolves and hawks and snakes. Their feet were bare.

There was a thin circlet of living vines on their very bald head.

"You'll be cold," Adam protested in a daze. "You're beautiful, Linden. You're a prince more than I ever will be."

Linden laughed and it was alright, it was really Linden, his Linden. "Do you like it? It took forever to make and I kept thinking someone in the smallfolk would tell you and it wouldn't be a surprise anymore."

"I think it suits you," was all Adam could say. He dropped the satchel and rummaged through it until he found a present. Unsurprisingly, it was a hat.

"Oh, thank you, yes." Linden threw the crown of vines aside, where it promptly burrowed and slithered into the ground, and dragged the hat almost to their ears. Only then did Adam notice that one of their hands was still bark, rather that smooth brown skin.

"Linden."

"Mm? Oh, that." They smiled in triumph and offered the hand. "Look."

Adam took the hand in his and looked. His breath caught; there, surrounded by bark, sat the iron ring, untarnished but made harmless not by fey power, but by the very nature of Linden themselves. "You did it. Linden, you did it!"

"I did! I told you I could." They chewed on their lip. "I gave the knife to Needle, before she left. I hope she's alright. I hope that was alright."

"Well, the handle's from some sea creature, so she should be fine if that's all she touches." Adam saw the light of the shattered eyes falter, and drew himself very straight, offering his most refined and elegant bow. "May I have this dance?"

Linden laughed, caught by surprise. "Are you sure it's alright? Dressed like this? Maybe I should've got the other kind of clothing."

"It's just clothing. It's like me being called a prince, it's just a title because I'm related to the Dowager. Honestly I have no idea how they dance with all those skirts piled on top of one another. This is much nicer." Linden surrendered their hands, and Adam took them, and they danced to music only they could hear, knowing only that they had one another, and that it was enough. "I wouldn't care what you wore, Linden. I only care that it's you."

They kissed, sweet and shy and glad, and then laughed and danced until the cold chased Adam back to the palace.

Neither of them saw the mismatched eyes, one green and one gold, staring at them with hate from the dark.

[skulls-n-soup]

Hello 👋, I hope you're doing well..

My name is Mahmoud, and I'm a 17-year-old from Gaza. The ongoing war has devastated my city, destroyed my school, and made daily life incredibly challenging.

Despite these hardships, I'm determined to continue my education and build a better future. I've been given a chance to study abroad, but I need help to cover the costs of leaving Gaza, as well as living expenses and other essentials abroad once the crossing opens.. 🙏

If you can, please consider donating or sharing, your kindness can truly make a difference, and thanks for your time. ❤🍉

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Alrigh' everyone, reblog if ye cannae donate and donate what ye can!